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diff --git a/old/66774-0.txt b/old/66774-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 68ca9b0..0000000 --- a/old/66774-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10364 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Let Us Kiss and Part, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh -Miller - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Let Us Kiss and Part - or, A Shattered Tie - -Author: Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller - -Release Date: November 19, 2021 [eBook #66774] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy of - the Digital Library@Villanova University.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET US KISS AND PART *** - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and text -enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=). - -Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. - - * * * * * - -NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 943 - -LET US KISS AND PART - -By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller - -[Illustration] - - STREET & SMITH - PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK - - - - -Let Us Kiss and Part; - - - OR, - A SHATTERED TIE - - BY - MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER - - Author of “Pretty Madcap Lucy,” “The Fatal Kiss,” “Loyal Unto - Death,” “The Strength of Love,” “Lady Gay’s Pride,” - and many other romances of American life published - exclusively in the EAGLE and NEW EAGLE SERIES. - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS - 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE - - * * * * * - -Copyright, 1897-1898 By STREET & SMITH - -Let Us Kiss and Part - -All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign -languages, including the Scandinavian. - - * * * * * - -Keys to Knowledge - -We have a line of the best and cleanest hand books ever published. They -are known as DIAMOND HAND BOOKS. Each one was written by a man or woman -thoroughly conversant with the subject he or she treated. The facts are -presented in an especially attractive manner so that every one who can -read, can understand. - -HERE ARE THE TITLES - -_PRICE, TEN CENTS EACH_ - - =Sheldon’s Twentieth Century Letter Writer=, By L. W. SHELDON - =Women’s Secrets; or, How to be Beautiful=, By GRACE SHIRLEY - =Sheldon’s Guide to Etiquette=, By L. W. SHELDON - =Physical Health Culture=, By PROF. FOURMEN - =National Dream Book=, By MME. CLARE ROUGEMONT - =Zingara Fortune Teller=, By a Gypsy Queen - =The Art of Boxing and Self-Defense=, By PROF. DONOVAN - =The Key to Hypnotism=, By ROBERT G. ELLSWORTH, M.D. - =U. S. Army Physical Exercises=, Revised by PROF. DONOVAN - =Heart Talks With the Lovelorn=, By GRACE SHIRLEY - =Frank Merriwell’s Book of Physical Development=, By BURT L. STANDISH - -SPECIAL - -_PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS_ - - =How to Keep Fit and Healthy=, By MRS. FRANK STEPHENS - -If sent by mail, three cents must be added to the cost of each book to -cover postage. - -STREET & SMITH, 79 Seventh Avenue, NEW YORK - - * * * * * - -_Twenty Books Every Girl Should Read_ - - Little Nan. By Mary A. Denison. Eagle No. 439, 10c. - Sunset Pass. By General Charles King. Eagle No. 150, 10c. - Dear Elsie. By Mary J. Safford. Eagle No. 337, 10c. - Country Lanes and City Pavements. - By Maurice Minton. Eagle No. 145, 10c. - Couldn’t Say No. By John Habberton. Eagle No. 164, 10c. - Catmur’s Cave. By Richard Dowling. Eagle No. 86, 10c. - Wyoming. By Edward S. Ellis. New Medal No. 532, 15c. - Breakneck Farm. By Evelyn Raymond. Medal No. 367, 10c. - Service Courageous. By Don Cameron Shafer. New Medal No. 707, 15c. - Service Audacious. By Don Cameron Shafer. New Medal No. 717, 15c. - Jack Wheeler, a Western Story. - By Capt. David Southwick. Medal No. 45, 10c. - Frank Merriwell’s Marriage. - By Burt L. Standish. New Medal No. 587, 15c. - The Duchess. By The Duchess. Select No. 71, 10c. - The First Violin. By Jessie Fothergill. Select No. 64, 10c. - Meadowbrook. By Mary J. Holmes. Select No. 48, 10c. - Rory O’More. By Samuel Lover. Select No. 133, 10c. - John Halifax, Gentleman. By Miss Mulock. Select No. 117, 10c. - The King’s Stratagem. By Stanley J. Weyman. Select No. 164, 10c. - East Lynne. By Mrs. Henry Wood. Select No. 14, 10c. - Plain Tales From the Hills. By Rudyard Kipling. Select No. 72, 10c. - -Complete List of S. & S. Novels sent anywhere upon request - -STREET & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK - - * * * * * - -LET US KISS AND PART. - - - - -CHAPTER I. WHEN POVERTY ENTERS THE DOOR. - - -To love and hate in the same breath, it is as cruel as a tragedy. - -Leon and Verna Dalrymple knew all that subtle pain as they faced each -other in the cold, gray light of that autumn day whereon they were -parting forever. - -It was not simply a lovers’ quarrel, either. - -The pity of it was that they were husband and wife, both very young, -both very fond, but driven apart by unreasoning pride and passion. - -The husband was twenty-one years old, the bride but seventeen--a case -of “marry in haste, repent at leisure.” - -Six months ago the bride, sole daughter of a wealthy family, had eloped -from boarding school with a poor young man, a teacher of music. - -For her fault the daughter had been cast off by her parents, and the -young man dismissed from the school where he taught. Unable to secure -another position, misfortune had steadily tracked his footsteps until -he could scarcely afford bread for himself and the fair, dainty bride. - -Having rushed into marriage without thought for the future, misfortune -soured their naturally hasty tempers, and when the fierce wolf of -poverty came in at the door love flew out of the window. - -They could scarcely have told how it all began, but at last they -were quarreling most bitterly. There were mutual recriminations and -fault-findings, that increased in virulence until one day, goaded by -Verna’s reproaches, Leon cried out in hot resentment: - -“I regret that I ever saw you!” - -“I hate you!” she replied, with a scornful flash of her great, -somber, dark eyes, and whether the words were true or not, she never -took them back--neither one ever professed sorrow for angry words or -begged forgiveness. The husband, hurt by her sneers, pained by her -reproaches, and inwardly wounded by his inability to provide for her -better, took refuge in sullen silence that she resented by downright -sulking. She was furious at his unkindness, disgusted with her poverty, -and unconsciously ill of a trouble she did not suspect, so the breach -widened between their hearts until one day she said with rigid white -lips and somber, angry eyes: - -“I am tired of starving and freezing here where I am not wanted! I -shall go home and beg papa to forgive my folly and get me a divorce -from you.” - -The awful words were spoken and they fell on his heart like hailstones, -but though he grew pale as death and his whole frame trembled, he -feigned the cruelest indifference, saying bitterly: - -“You could not please me better!” - -So the die was cast. - -Perhaps she had wished to test his love, perhaps she hoped that the -fear of losing her might beat down the armor of his stubborn pride and -make him sue for a reconciliation. - -Whatever she might have secretly desired, his answer was a deathblow to -her hopes. - -At his words a strange look flashed into her large, dark eyes, and for -a moment her red mouth quivered like a child’s at an unexpected blow. -But she swallowed a choking sob, and the next moment her young face -grew rigid as a mask. - -Rising slowly from her seat, she put on her hat, caught up a small hand -satchel from the floor, and passed silently from the poor apartment. - -If only she had turned her fair, haughty head for one backward -glance--if only---- - -For his passionate heart had almost leaped from his breast in the -terror of his loss. - -Anger, pride, and pique were forgotten alike in the supreme anguish of -that moment’s despair. - -As she turned away he stretched his arms out yearningly, whispering -with stiff, white lips that could scarcely frame the words: - -“Darling, come back!” - -Had she only looked back, her heart would have melted with tenderness -at sight of his grief. She would have fallen, sobbing, on his breast. - -But she never turned her proud, dark head; she did not catch the -yearning whisper, and his arms dropped heavily to his sides again, -while the echo of her retreating footsteps fell like a death knell on -his heart. - -Angry and estranged, they had parted to go their separate ways forever, -and the stream of destiny rolled in widely between their sundered -lives, thus wrenched violently heart from heart. - -To be born to the heritage of such beauty, pride, and passion, is not -altogether goodly--yet, it is the daughter of this strangely parted -pair whom I have chosen for my heroine, for in four months after -Verna Dalrymple left her husband she became the mother of a lovely -daughter--a girl that in its dainty beauty possessed the blond fairness -of the father, the dark, dreamy eyes and proud, beautiful mouth of the -brunet mother. - - - - -CHAPTER II. SIXTEEN YEARS LATER. - - -“Sister Jessie, I am so hungry. Please give me some bread!” sobbed the -pleading voice of a little child, clinging to the skirts of the young -house mother, a dark-eyed girl of sixteen. - -“I’se hungry, too. I want my bekfus!” sobbed a still younger child, -petulantly, and for answer Jessie stooped down and gathered both the -little boys into her yearning arms, crying tremulously: - -“Wait a little while, my darlings, and sister Jessie will go and try to -get you some bread!” - -Oh! what a tale of wretchedness was told by the bare, fireless room -and the pinched faces and hollow eyes of the three children, the girl -of sixteen, the boys of six and four, respectively. It was midday, -but they had not tasted food for twenty-four hours, and the cupboard -was empty of the smallest crust. It was a chilly November day, but -the small stove was fireless, though their thin, ragged garments were -insufficient to keep out the biting cold. - -Jessie kissed the wan, tear-wet faces of her hungry little brothers, -then stood up again and looked round the room to see if there was -anything left worthy the attention of the old pawnbroker on the corner. - -A choking sob escaped the girl’s lips: - -“Alas, there is nothing but trash! The little purse is empty, and the -rent unpaid for two months. What shall we do?” - -A loud rap on the door gave her a violent start, and she sprang to open -it, exclaiming piteously: - -“They have come again for the rent!” - -She was confronted by a medium-sized young man, good-looking in a -coarse style with red cheeks, keen, black eyes, and close-cropped, -black hair, dressed flashily, with a long, gold watch chain dangling -across his breast. - -Staring curiously into the room and at the girl, he demanded: - -“Is John Lyndon at home?” - -“He is not.” - -“Where is his wife, then, hey?” - -A sob came from all three of the children, but no reply until a little, -motherly looking woman suddenly pushed past the young man into the -room, exclaiming: - -“Arrah, now, how dare ye break the hearts av thim by yer impidence, -axin for their mither, and herself dead of a faver six months ago!” - -“Ah, and the father?” - -“Poor sowl, they took him to the hospital, a month ago, hurt by an -accident, and he died there but yesterday. I just came in to take the -childer to git the last look at his dead face before they bury him at -the city’s expinse.” - -“Ah, very sorry, I’m sure, but, of course, now the rent will never be -paid, and I was sent here to bring a dispossess warrant, so I may as -well read it for the benefit of the children.” - -And he coolly proceeded to do so, apparently unmoved by the sad story -of death and disaster he had just heard. - -Then he beckoned to two rough-looking men who had been standing in the -hallway. They came up at once, and at a motion of the hand from the -dispossess officer, they began at once to move the few shabby household -effects into the street. - -Painful sobs burst from the hapless orphans, but the little Irishwoman, -with the calmness of one long familiar with the stern face of poverty, -said to them gently: - -“You see, dears, ye are turned into the street. Have yees any friends -to take yees in?” - -Jessie answered forlornly: - -“We have an aunt, a dressmaker, in a distant part of the city. She was -papa’s sister, but he would never let her know that we were so poor -after he lost his steady job, saying she had troubles enough of her -own.” - -“Av coorse she will help yees, when she knows about your troubles, poor -things, so now come to my room and have a little snack before we start -to the hospital,” said Mrs. Ryan tenderly, marshaling the orphans past -the dispossess agent, who remarked insinuatingly: - -“The oldest girl’s big enough to go out and earn her own living, and if -her aunt won’t take her to keep, I know of a situation she can get as -parlormaid with a very nice lady.” - -“Thank you kindly, but I hope she won’t need it,” returned Mrs. Ryan -curtly, as she led the little flock to her own poor apartment where she -fed them on the best she could afford, weak tea, baker’s stale bread, -and a bit of cheese, but a feast to the famishing orphans whose thanks -brought tears to her kind eyes. - -Afterward she took them to look their last on the face of their dead -before he was consigned to his grave among the city’s pauper dead, poor -soul, the victim of penury and misfortune. Then she led them weeping -away to their aunt, Mrs. Godfrey, who heard with grief of her poor -brother’s death and looked with pity on his orphan children. - -She said plaintively: - -“I’m a lone widow with a sick daughter and no support but my needle, -but, of course, I cannot turn John’s children out into the cold world. -I’ll take Mark and Willie and do the best I can by them, but as for -Jessie, she is old enough to go out and work for herself. Besides, she -has no claim on me, as she was not my brother’s child!” - -“Not papa’s child!” almost shrieked Jessie, in her astonishment, and -Mrs. Godfrey, looking ready to faint under the burden of her new -responsibilities, replied: - -“No, you were only the niece of my brother’s wife, though she brought -you up as her own child, and loved you just as well.” - -Mrs. Ryan questioned eagerly: - -“Are Jessie’s own parents living?” - -“The Lord only knows,” was the answer, and, seeing the anxiety on their -faces, Mrs. Godfrey continued: - -“You see, it was this way: Jessie’s father and mother were divorced -when they hadn’t been married more than seven months or so, and -afterward their child was born, and when it was a few years old the -father in a fit of rage stole Jessie away from her mother and brought -her to his sister to raise as her own. He went away and for years sent -money liberally to keep and educate the child, but at last letters -and money both stopped suddenly, and ’twas supposed he was dead. The -Lyndons kept Jessie all the same, and did the best they could, but -misfortunes began to come and death followed--so everything came to -this pass. I’ll say it for Jess, she’s a good child, but I’m too poor -to keep her, so she will have to look for a situation.” - -“I’ve heard of one already, so I will take her back and try to get -it for her. Bid your little brothers good-by, dear,” said Mrs. Ryan -gently, in her pity for the forlorn girl, who now turned to Mrs. -Godfrey, faltering: - -“Maybe you can tell me where to find my mother?” - -“I can’t, my dear, for now I remember I never heard her name, nor -your pa’s, neither. You always went by the name of Lyndon, and was -considered their child, so you will have to go on calling yourself -Lyndon till you find out better. Maybe your ma wasn’t a good woman, -anyway, or she wouldn’t had to be divorced.” - -Cruel was the parting between Jessie and the little ones, but with -kisses and tears, and promises to come again, the desolate girl was -hurried away to her fate--every link broken between her and the past, -her brain on fire, her heart aching, her future a chaos that no hope -could pierce. - -“If I could only find my mother!” she sighed to Mrs. Ryan. - -“Sure, darlint, don’t fix your heart on her, for she must have been -a bad woman indade, or your father wouldn’t have stole ye away and -put ye in his sister’s care. Arrah, now, I’m thinking of what the -dispossess agent said about knowing of a good place for ye to stay as -parlormaid. And good luck to ye, darlint; there he is in front of the -tiniment now, having the old sticks of your furniture moved, bad cess -to his eyes! But then ag’in, ’tain’t his fault. He was sint by the -landlord to do it, and can’t help himself, so why should we be hard on -him, thin! Och, if you plaze, sir, we would like to have the address of -the good lady as you said would take Jessie for a parlormaid.” - -The agent’s face beamed with surprise and delight, and, hastily drawing -a card from his pocket, he presented it, saying: - -“There’s the address, and just tell the lady I sent you, and I know she -will give Miss Lyndon the place,” beaming on the girl in a way that -made her shrink and shudder. - -“Why, ’tis the old fortune teller in the next street,” said Mrs. Ryan, -surveying the dingy card that read: - -“Know your fate and fortune. Consult Madame Barto, scientific palmist, -No. 16A West Twenty-third Street. Hours between ten and four daily. Fee -one dollar.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. A YOUNG GIRL’S FIRST THOUGHT. - - -Madame Barto’s ideas of a parlormaid seemed rather confused, for her -gloomy little brick house had no occupants save herself and Jessie, -and before business hours in the morning she and Jessie did up all -the household work, after which they separated, madame to sit in her -dingy parlor and read detective stories in the intervals of waiting for -customers, and Jessie to wait in a tiny anteroom off the hall to answer -the doorbell. - -The first thing that morning madame had gone out and bought her maid -a neat, black gown finished with black and white ribbons, at neck and -waist, and a neat little pair of buttoned boots that made quite an -improvement in her appearance. - -“This comes in advance out of your first month’s salary, and I think -you will agree I am very generous to trust you,” she said frankly. - -“I am very grateful, madame,” faltered the girl shyly, for she stood -greatly in awe of the tall, dark, homely fortune teller, with her stern -face and grenadierlike walk. - -“See that you prove so,” the woman said dryly, adding, as she seized -the girl’s hand and turned the pink palm to the light: “Let us see what -fate has in store for such a pretty girl.” - -“Shall I ever be married?” queried Jessie timidly, and Madame Barto -laughed: - -“Ha, ha, the first thought of a young girl--‘shall I ever be married?’ -Yes, yes, pretty one. I can promise you a husband for certain! Girls -like you--so lovely and naïve--are very sure to marry, for the men will -not give them any peace. But you’ll repent it afterward if you’re like -most women. I know, for marriage is a lottery, and more blanks are -drawn than prizes.” - -“I am sorry. I thought love must be so sweet,” said the girl with a -little, unconscious sigh. - -“Poor thing!” answered the woman, with a half sneer, her keen, deep-set -eyes following the lines of the delicate palm while she pursued: - -“I see dark clouds lowering over your life--and the line of life is -strangely crossed. I foresee tragic elements in your future. The -chances of happiness are against you, but you may possibly overcome -these adverse influences. Let us hope so. Otherwise----” she paused, -looked keenly at the girl, and exclaimed: - -“You will not thank me if I tell you any more. What is the use, anyway? -You will find it out soon enough yourself. These people who pay me a -dollar for reading the future, what fools they are! If they wait they -will know it for nothing!” - -Jessie hung her golden head in cruel disappointment, having hoped that -a good fortune might have been promised from the reading of her little -hand, while the madame continued briskly: - -“Come, now, you will sit here in the anteroom with this bit of sewing -until the doorbell rings, then you will answer it, usher the caller in -here, and come to me for instructions. Will you remember this?” - -“Oh, yes, madame,” sitting down obediently with the roll of ruffling -madame had given her to hemstitch, eager to be alone with her sad -thoughts. - -Sad they were, indeed, poor Jessie, thus wrenched from all she had -known and loved in the past, and thrown alone on the world, to face the -untried future. - - Standing with reluctant feet, - Where the brook and river meet, - Womanhood and childhood fleet. - -At the clanging of the doorbell she started quickly to her feet with a -strange, inexplicable throb of the heart. - -She flew out into the hall and turned the doorknob to admit the caller. - -Had she guessed that it was the little god Cupid knocking, would she -have unbarred the door? - -Alas! destiny is strong. We could not shirk it if we would. - -The fair little hand shot back the bolt and turned the doorknob. - -And as the lid of Pandora’s box was opened, letting out evil on the -world, so with the opening of the door Jessie let in love and pain: - - Those kinsfolk twain. - -On the threshold confronting her stood a young man of perhaps four and -twenty, and if you had searched New York over you could not have found -a more perfect specimen of manly grace, strength, and beauty. - -Tall, athletic, with fine, clear-cut features, eyes like deep, -blue pools under thick-fringed lashes, brown, clustering locks of -silken gloss and softness, he was a man to look at twice with frank -admiration, and when you added to nature’s gifts the best efforts of -the tailor, a man to set any girl’s heart throbbing wildly in her -breast. - -“I wish to see Madame Barto, please,” he said, in a voice of such -strong agitation that Jessie looked at him in wonder at the deep pallor -of his handsome young face and the lines of pain between his knitted -brows. - -“I will tell madame,” she said, leaving him in the anteroom, walking -impatiently up and down. - -Madame was deeply interested in her detective story, and she yawned -impatiently, saying: - -“Tell him I’m engaged with a caller, and will be at leisure in about -ten minutes.” - -“But he is in a hurry, and in some great trouble, madame. You could -read it in his face and his voice, so strained and tremulous, poor -fellow!” cried Jessie warmly. - -Madame laughed heartlessly: - -“Oh, I know the type! Jealous young fool, just had a quarrel with his -sweetheart and wants to find out if she will ever make it up with him! -Let him wait. Suspense will cool his temper. Meantime, I must have ten -minutes to finish this thrilling chapter! Go!” turning eagerly to her -book again. - -The girl hurried back to the caller, who was pacing impatiently up and -down the room just as she had left him. - -“Madame Barto will be at leisure in ten minutes,” she said gently, -sitting down to her work again, while the young fellow went to the -window and drummed a restless tattoo on the pane. - -Jessie’s fingers had grown suddenly tremulous, and the color flushed up -in her young face, for through her drooping lids she felt him gazing at -her with suddenly aroused attention. - -And one looking once at Jessie Lyndon could not help looking twice. - -Of that rarest, most exquisite type, a dark-eyed blonde, she was -possessed of most alluring beauty that not even want and poverty had -sufficed to dim. - -A little above medium height, slight and graceful, with perfect -features, an oval face, a skin as delicate as a rose leaf, pouting, -crimson lips, large, dark, haunting eyes, and a mass of curling golden -hair, she would enchant any lover of beauty. - -The young man, after watching her in blended admiration and curiosity -several minutes, suddenly exclaimed: - -“Excuse me, are you Madame Barto’s daughter?” - -Jessie lifted those large, dark, haunting eyes to his face in wonder, -answering: - -“No, I am an orphan girl--living with madame and working for her -because I have no home nor friends.” - -The pathos of the low-spoken words went to his heart, and his voice -grew soft with sympathy as he said: - -“My name is Frank Laurier. May I know yours?” - -“It is Jessie Lyndon,” she replied, dropping her eyes with a deepening -blush at his eager glance. - -“A pretty name. I should like to know you better, Miss Lyndon. Will -you take a little drive with me in the park some afternoon?” - -She started in such surprise that the sewing fell from her little, -trembling hands. - -“Sir, I--I----” she faltered confusedly. - -He smiled at her dismay, and added eagerly: - -“No, no, I don’t mean to be impertinent. I would like the pleasure of a -drive with you, and would return you safe to madame afterward. Please -say you will accept my invitation,” he pleaded, his dark-blue eyes -shining with a light that sent a sweet, warm thrill through her heart -like a burning arrow--the flame-tipped arrow of love. - -She grew dizzy with the thought of driving with him in the park--she, -little Jessie Lyndon, poor, obscure, friendless, to be chosen by this -splendid young exquisite, it was too good to be true. - -“Will you go--to please me!” pleaded the musical, manly voice, and she -murmured tremulously: - -“I--would--go--if madame----” - -“Leave that to me. I will coax her,” he said radiantly, as a little -tinkle of the bell summoned him to the fortune teller. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. THE WINNING OF A HEART. - - -Jessie set some very bad stitches in madame’s ruffling the next half -hour, for her slender fingers trembled with the quick beating of her -heart. - -She had had her shy dreams of a lover, like other girls, and now they -seemed about to become blissful reality. - -Could it be he had fallen in love with her? This rich, handsome young -man--in love with the face that she could not help knowing was very -fair. Madame must be mistaken thinking that his strange agitation -came from a quarrel with his sweetheart. He could not have had any -sweetheart, surely. - -Her dark eyes beamed with joy, her cheeks glowed crimson as a sea -shell, and her heart throbbed wildly with suspense. Madame Barto came -in presently with the young man, and said blandly: - -“I have consented to your taking an hour’s drive in the park with this -gentleman, my dear, if you wish.” - -“Let it be this afternoon. I will call for you promptly at four -o’clock,” he added, smiling at her as he bowed himself out. - -Madame Barto laughed knowingly, and exclaimed: - -“You pretty child, you are fortunate to have Frank Laurier pay you such -attention. He is well-born, and rolling in wealth. Your dark eyes have -turned his head! Hark, the bell again!” and she retreated quickly to -her parlor. - -Jessie hurried to the door, and again her unconscious hand opened the -door to destiny. - -A beautiful brunette of about twenty, richly gowned, and with an -imperious air, entered the hall, and said curtly: - -“I wish to see Madame Barto quickly.” - -Jessie carried the message, and said: - -“This young lady looks as pale and agitated as the young man who has -just left.” - -“Oh, it’s another love scrape, I suppose. That’s what usually brings -them here! Well, you may send her in at once!” - -The moment that the beautiful brunette found herself alone with Madame -Barto she exclaimed breathlessly: - -“Just now as I was passing in my carriage I saw a young man I -know--Frank Laurier--leaving this house. Did he come to have his -fortune told, or--or--to see that lovely girl that admitted me?” - -Madame answered demurely: - -“To have his fortune told, of course. In the lines of his hand I found -a broken engagement, and he wished to know if it would ever be renewed.” - -“And you told him----” eagerly. - -“I beg pardon. I cannot disclose the secrets of my customers,” madame -returned, rather stiffly, as she bent over the jeweled hand her -customer had just ungloved. - -A bursting sigh heaved the young girl’s breast, and she cried -plaintively: - -“Quick! What do you see?” - -“Ah, how strange! I see in your hand, also, a broken engagement!” she -exclaimed, in surprise. - -“Yes, yes--now, tell me, will we ever make it up, our foolish quarrel!” -cried the girl wildly. - -Madame answered deliberately: - -“The fates are against it. I see here that your path will be crossed by -a charming rival, who will lure his heart away!” - -The girl snatched her hand away and arose, furious with passion, crying: - -“Woe be unto that girl! She had better never been born than come -between me and my lover!” - -“There are other men to love you!” consoled madame. - -“What do I care for them? I want only him! And I have been so foolish, -I have driven him from me! But no one else shall have him! I swear it!” -cried the brunette, her dark eyes flashing wildly, as she paid the -fortune teller, adding, “Come, tell me all you told Frank Laurier, and -all this is yours!” and she held out a roll of bank notes. - -Madame was not proof against the golden bribe, so she answered: - -“I told him the engagement would most likely never be renewed--that -a lovely blonde was fated to come between them and cause much -unhappiness.” - -“Let her beware!” hissed the beautiful girl, under her breath, as -madame took up her hand again, saying: - -“You have much to console you for a single disappointment in love. You -are beautiful and rich, and you can have great success as an actress if -you wish to----” - -“That is an old story. I do not wish to hear any more--not that I -believe what you have told me! It is all jargon--he shall make up with -me!” muttered the proud, beautiful creature, tearing her hand from -madame’s, and flinging out of the room in a rage. - -As Jessie opened the door for her exit she gave the girl one keen, -disdainful glance, whispering to herself like one distraught: - -“A lovely blonde! But she shall rue the day she comes between us!” - -She swept out of the house like a beautiful fury, and Jessie sighed. - -“She must be very unhappy in spite of her silks and jewels!” - -Then she forgot the haughty beauty in tender thoughts of the man who -had preceded her--“my lover” she already called him softly to herself. - - Ah, they give their faith too oft, - To the careless wooer; - Maidens’ hearts are always soft, - Would that men’s were truer! - -It seemed long to Jessie till four o’clock sounded, though she was kept -busy with the customers coming and going all day, eager to know their -fate and fortune from the palmist. - -But at last business hours were over, and Jessie and her employer -lunched frugally, after which the madame said kindly: - -“Now you may get ready for your drive with Mr. Laurier, for it is on -the stroke of four o’clock.” - -There was no getting ready for a girl who possessed but one gown, -except to bathe her face and hands and rearrange her wealth of -sunshiny tresses in the loose plait in the back, then affected by girls -of her age. This done, Jessie placed on her charming head the black -sailor hat madame had bought her, while she sighed to herself: - -“I fear my dress is not fine enough for a drive in the park with such a -grand, rich gentleman as Mr. Laurier. Perhaps his fashionable friends -will laugh at me. I wonder why he cares to take me with him like this, -when he could have his pick of grand, rich girls like the one that came -to have her fortune told this morning!” - -The bell clanged loudly, and she flew with a beating heart to the door, -her cheeks glowing, her eyes shining with the tenderest love light. - -She had not the slightest doubt but that it was Frank Laurier waiting -outside. - -She opened the door quickly, with a smile of welcome on her coral lips. - -Oh, how quickly the glad smile faded when she saw instead the young man -who had recommended her to this place but yesterday--the dispossess -agent. - -He was dressed very fine in a loud, flashy style, and smiled -patronizingly at lovely Jessie, exclaiming: - -“Ah! Miss Jessie, how sweet you look. That new dress is very becoming. -Now, don’t you feel grateful to me for getting you this nice place with -my aunt? I didn’t tell you Madame Barto is my aunt, did I? My name is -Carey Doyle, and I came to take you for a nice little walk, if you will -go with me.” - -“I--I--thank you, but--I have an engagement,” Jessie faltered, drawing -back in secret disgust from her bold admirer. - -“Well, you may break that engagement, my pretty little Jessie, for I’m -bound to have you for my little sweetheart, I swear, and you shall -give me a kiss to seal the bargain!” protested Carey Doyle, crowding -her to the wall and throwing his arms around her slender waist despite -her cries and struggles in his effort to press a kiss on the pouting, -scarlet lips. - -But in the excitement of his entrance they had forgotten to close the -door, and Frank Laurier, bounding up the steps, took in directly the -situation. - -The next moment he had wrenched the burly wretch away from Jessie, and -thrust him by force down the steps, aiding his progress by a kick as he -exclaimed: - -“Take that for insulting the young lady!” - - - - -CHAPTER V. THE FIRST KISS. - - -Pale and trembling from her fright, Jessie leaned against the wall when -Frank Laurier returned to her, jaunty and debonair, saying lightly: - -“I have pitched the bold fellow down the steps, and he has gone off out -of the way. Why, how pale and ill you look! Were you so much frightened -of a kiss?” - -“Yes--from that wretch!” she faltered, and his deep-blue eyes laughed -at her quizzically, and with something like daring in them as he led -her out to the pavement to an elegant little trap, and, taking up the -reins, drove off in great style for the park. - -Jessie’s heart throbbed with pride and joy, but she still trembled -violently from the struggle with Doyle. - -She half sobbed: - -“Oh, I never can thank you enough for driving him away! If he had -kissed me--oh, I should have died of disgust!” - -“Died of a kiss, ha, ha!” laughed the young man gayly, so amused at the -idea that it took firm hold of his memory, to be recalled at a fateful -aftertime. - -“Have you never been kissed by a young man, then, little Jessie?” he -added, still laughing. - -“Oh, no, no, never!” blushing deeply. - -“Then he will be a lucky young fellow who gets the first kiss from you! -I wonder who he will be! Can you guess?” - -The great, dark eyes stole a shy glance at him under the drooping -lashes, as she whispered demurely: - -“Only the man I shall marry!” - -“Oh, indeed!” - -Did he think she was chaffing him, or coquettishly daring him, or what? -It is certain he was in a reckless, flippant mood, and that swift -glance of hers warmed his blood like wine. They were in the park now, -driving under the shadow of some autumn-colored trees, and all in a -flash his arm slipped round her waist, the brown head bent over the -golden one. - - Two faces bent-- - Bent in a swift and daring dream, - An ecstasy of trembling bliss, - And sealed together in a kiss. - -She did not struggle, sweet Jessie, against this bold caress, simply -yielded to it with a delirious throb of joy, letting his lips drain the -sweetness of hers unhindered, as a bee sips the sweets of the rose, her -thrilling form resting quiescent against the arm that clasped her close -to his heart. When he released her, neither spoke a word, Jessie sat -very still, her form inclined slightly toward him, her eyes downcast -and shining, her cheeks warmly flushed, her moist lips tremulous, her -bosom heaving with emotion, a lovely picture of girlish tenderness on -which the young man’s eyes rested with pleasure. - -He touched up the sleek, black ponies with the whip, and directly -they were borne into the thick of the crowd that made the beautiful -drives a gay, changeful panorama of fine horses, smart turnouts, and -magnificently dressed women. - -Frank Laurier blent readily with the animated crowd, sitting erect -with a very pale face, compressed lips, and eyes that glittered with -a blue fire as he swept them eagerly and restlessly over the passing -faces, returning salutations every moment or so, and seemingly -almost forgetting the girl by his side in some secret, overmastering -excitement. - -As for her, if she could have thought of anything but that kiss and the -bliss of his nearness, she would have begun to feel out of place in her -cheap, simple dress there in the moving throng of richly garbed women, -whose glances rested in wonder on the fair face and cheap attire of the -girl by Laurier’s side. She did not, indeed, guess how different she -looked from the others, or how very strange it was for a man in his -position to run the gantlet of all those curious, surprised eyes--he, -one of the fashionable four hundred, with that little working girl by -his side. - -If the innocent child gave a thought to the incongruity, she only felt -it as a tribute of his regard for her. - -She felt an exquisite pleasure in thus being exhibited at his side -to the habitués of his particular world, and did not realize the -strangeness of his inattention to herself, or the eagerness of his -excited glance as it roved from carriage to carriage filled with fair -faces and bright, sparkling eyes, as if in restless search for some one. - -At last! - -Jessie, close to his side, felt the young man give a quick start of -surprise and emotion, at the same moment lifting his hat with a low -bow. - -She saw passing them on the drive a splendid, low victoria, containing -two handsome, elegantly dressed ladies, one past the first blush of -girlhood, the other--oh!--the dark beauty of this morning who had come -to Madame Barto’s to know her fate and fortune! - -Jessie’s dark, uplifted eyes met and held for a moment the flashing -orbs of the beautiful brunette, and all in a moment she felt as if -she were withering in the heat of some desert simoom, so fierce and -malevolent was that look that seemed to scorch her very soul. - -She thought with a thrill of nameless fear: - -“The beautiful stranger hates me!--I wonder why!” - -But the next moment the fear was blotted out in a new terror. - -No one could ever tell what frightened Frank Laurier’s spirited ponies, -but just as they passed the victoria they bolted wildly and ran away -in spite of his close grip on the reins, creating a terrible panic and -confusion, and barely missing a collision with another carriage. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. FATE’S DECREE. - - -If Jessie had turned her fair head to look back as she drove off so -triumphantly with her handsome escort, she would have seen Carey Doyle -scrambling up from the gutter where he had landed after his animated -encounter with Laurier, and shaking his fist after her malevolently, -while curses low and deep shrilled over his lips, and his eyes blazed -with a baleful light that boded no good to those who had aroused his -jealous anger. - -Brushing the soil of the gutter from his flashy suit, he shambled -across the pavement and back into the house from which he had been so -vigorously ejected. - -Madame Barto herself met him on the threshold, and drew him in, -exclaiming hoarsely: - -“Why, Carey, what is the meaning of this? I was just coming into the -hall to see Jessie off on her drive, when I beheld her struggling in -your arms, and the next moment Mr. Laurier grasped you and sent you -spinning down the steps like a top!” - -“Laurier! Is that his name, curse him?” grumbled Doyle, rubbing his -knee which seemed to have been crippled by the fall, and continuing -excitedly, “It was this way, Aunt Barto: I fell in love with pretty -little Jessie the minute I clapped my eyes on her yesterday, the -beggarly little minx, and when I did her the good turn to send her -to you, of course I meant to have my innings for the good deed. This -afternoon I spruced up in my very best and came to take her for a -walk, but as soon as I came in and asked her, she tossed up her yellow -head like a princess and said she had another engagement. My temper -flared up and I said she should go with me and give me a kiss into the -bargain, but when I grabbed her she fought like a little cat, and then -that dandy rushed in like a whirlwind, caught me up with the strength -of ten men and pitched me down the steps, rolling me into the gutter -and nearly breaking every bone in my body, ugh!” with another groan. - -“But, Carey, I thought you were courting that little Jewess, Yetta -Stein.” - -“So I am, and have bought the ring, but it’s all up with that since -I’ve seen Jessie. Besides, Yetta’s family were bent on making me -embrace the Jewish religion before the knot was tied, so I can refuse -to do it and break off that way.” - -“You mean to say you’ll throw over the match with the rich pawnbroker’s -daughter for the sake of this beggar, Jessie?” - -“Yes, I will. I wasn’t thinking at first of marriage, only having some -good times with her, but now that dandified Samson has showed up I’ll -take her from him if I can, just to break his heart as he tried to -break my neck. Curse him!” - -“Oh, pshaw, Carey, it’s nonsense of you to think of competing with -a rich young millionaire like Frank Laurier. Why, he never saw her -before to-day, and he must have become quite fascinated with her at -first sight, for he invited her to drive with him in the park this -afternoon.” - -Carey Doyle shook his fist and raved impatiently: - -“Thunderation! I say he shall not! I’ll follow them to the park, -frighten his horses, and make them run away and break both the -upstarts’ necks.” - -“What good would that do, you foolish fellow? Better dismiss them both -from your mind and stick to Yetta.” - -“I won’t, so there! I swear to have Jessie Lyndon, by hook or crook!” - -“You cannot succeed. I have read both their hands, and if the science -of palmistry is true, which I firmly believe, those two, Laurier, the -millionaire, and Jessie, the little working girl, are meant for each -other by fate.” - -“Bah, curse palmistry! Didn’t you read my hand and tell me a pack of -lies?” - -“No, I told you that a prison yawned for you, and that only a lawyer’s -quibble would be able to save your neck from the gallows. I begged you -to restrain your evil propensities and try to avert the disaster if you -could! And I read all this written in your hand as plain as print,” -returned the fortune teller solemnly, with full faith in her art; but, -with an oath of incredulous scorn, her nephew limped heavily out of the -house. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. THE BEAUTIFUL RIVALS. - - -When the beautiful brunette in her drive through the park met Jessie -Lyndon riding by the side of Frank Laurier, all the blood in her veins -seemed momentarily to turn to ice in the shock of surprise, and then to -burn like liquid fire under the impulse of jealous rage. - -If a look could have killed, the fierce gleam of her eyes must have -slain her fair rival instantly, as by a lightning flash! - -Then all at once something terrible happened. - -Frank Laurier’s gayly prancing horses suddenly snorted with fear and -rage, and bounded forward so swiftly that he lost his grip on the -reins, having been momentarily unstrung by a meeting he had anticipated -ever since entering the park. - -A dreadful panic ensued on the crowded driveway. - -The air was filled with shouts and cries that only maddened the frantic -steeds dashing madly forward without control, for all Laurier’s efforts -to regain his reins were fruitless, and, leaning too far forward, he -was jerked violently to one side and thrown from the vehicle out upon -the ground, leaving Jessie alone, clinging desperately to the seat, her -lovely face convulsed with terror, her dark eyes dilated with fear and -dim with raining tears, a picture of beauty and distress, while her -frightened shrieks rang wildly on the air. - -Another harrowing moment, and the anguished voice was hushed, the -sweet eyes closed, the throbbing heart stilled! In their mad rush -trying to evade capture, the horses collided with a tree, shattering -the light vehicle, and hurling the young girl out upon the grass. All -white and unconscious, she lay there, a thin stream of blood trickling -down her temple where a stone had grazed it and staining the gold of -her hair with crimson. - -A sympathetic crowd soon gathered around, exclaiming in wonder and pity -at her girlish beauty and her sorrowful plight. - -But in a minute a light dogcart that had swiftly followed the runaways -was reined in upon the spot, and a young man sprang quickly from it, -advancing on the scene, while he cried with an air of authority: - -“Stand back, everybody, and give her air!” - -“Who is she? Who is she?” rang on every side, and the young man, who -was no other than Carey Doyle, answered impudently: - -“She is my little sister Jessie, and I would like to take her home, if -you people will give me room to pass!” - -Before his impatient show of authority, every one stupidly gave way, -and, lifting her carefully in his arms, Carey Doyle placed Jessie in -the dogcart, while he muttered exultantly to himself: - -“Ah, my scornful little beauty, you are in my power now, and I will pay -you well for your fine airs as well as for the kick that rich fool gave -me!” - -He was about to leap into the cart when an elegant victoria drove up, -in which sat two very handsome women. One of them, the youngest, -leaned forward and called him to her side. - -Flashing her great eyes imperiously at the impatient young man, she -whispered eagerly: - -“What is she to you?” - -He muttered curtly: - -“My sweetheart!” - -“Ah!” she murmured joyfully, and added softly: “I saw you come up -behind them and frighten his horses with the lash. Why did you do it?” - -His coarse face was scowling as he answered sullenly: - -“She went with him against my will, and I was furious enough to kill -them both!” - -“Do not be afraid of me--I will not betray you unless you disobey my -orders. Listen: He is my lover, and she is trying to lure him from me. -It is your task to keep them apart, and if they ever meet again, I will -denounce you for this crime. You understand?” - -“Yes, and will obey!” he returned, just as the other lady leaned across -the seat, saying anxiously: - -“What does he say about the young girl? Is she injured much?” - -Carey Doyle answered quickly: - -“Only a scratch on the temple and a fainting spell, madame. I’ll take -her home fast as I can, and she will soon be all right,” and he leaped -into the cart. - -“I hope so,” she said kindly, and, as he drove away, she said to her -companion: - -“What an exquisitely lovely face the poor girl has! And what beautiful -sunny hair, so fine and curly! I wonder who she is, Cora, and where -Frank happened to make her acquaintance?” - -“I’ll tell you all I know when we get home,” the young lady answered, -frowning darkly at the memory of that morning’s rencontre at Madame -Barto’s with lovely Jessie. - -She thought viciously: - -“That old witch lied to me--she knew he was there to see the girl, but -she feared to own the truth to me. But I shall have an ally now in the -man who carried her off this evening, and woe to him if he breaks faith -with me!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. “SHE SHALL BE MINE?” - - -With an evil smile on his face, Carey Doyle whipped up the horse and -drove swiftly back to his aunt’s house, his eyes gloating on the pale, -unconscious beauty of Jessie’s face as it lay across his knee where he -had carefully placed it. - -The man’s heart was aroused as it had never been before by this lovely -girl, and he vowed to himself that she should become his own. - -In the gray dusk of the November day he carried her into the house, to -the dismay of Madame Barto, who exclaimed: - -“So you were as good as your word! You tried to kill the poor child!” - -Carey Doyle denied the impeachment with the greatest sang-froid, -protesting that on the contrary he had saved the poor girl’s life in a -runaway accident. - -“And as soon as you bring her around I want to have a serious talk with -you,” he said, as she turned him out of the little hall bedroom where -Jessie lay on her narrow cot. - -He waited impatiently in the parlor about half an hour before she -reappeared, saying: - -“She was hard to revive, and hardly knows what has happened to her yet, -so I just gave her a sedative and left her to fall asleep while I come -to hear what you have to say, Carey.” - -“Well, as I told you just now, Laurier’s horses bolted in the park and -ran away, pitching him out, and leaving Jessie in. I happened to be -looking on and stopped the team and saved her life.” - -“Good!” said the fortune teller approvingly, and he continued: - -“While I took Jessie into my dogcart to bring her home, two swell -Fifth Avenue ladies had Laurier put into a carriage and taken home. -Now, aunt, I want you to help me to win Jessie Lyndon, and to give up -all such notions as Fate having cut her out for Mr. Laurier. It isn’t -likely that he means fair by Jessie, anyway; rich young men don’t often -marry poor girls, you know; while I’ll make her my wife at any moment -you persuade her to have me.” - -“How am I to manage it?” - -“Tell her that Laurier was killed in the accident, and keep her a -prisoner in her room until she consents to marry me.” - -“A risky game--and what am I to gain by it, anyway?” asked madame -significantly. - -Doyle laughed coarsely: - -“Well, I’ve helped you often enough in risky games, so it’s your turn -now. You just help me in this, or I’ll split on you. See? And you know -what I can say and do if I want to. But you do the right thing and -I will, too. Here’s some money, but mind you do the right thing, or -you’ll be sorry. I’ll go now and call to-morrow evening to see how our -plan works,” he said, rising to go. - -Alas, poor little Jessie, surrounded by cruel plotters and a jealous -foe, it might have been better if she had died in the heavy sleep that -lulled her senses that dreary night rather than awaken to the sorrow -of the next day. - -When she sighed and opened her heavy-lidded eyes again, the fortune -teller stood by the bed, looking down at her with a penetrating gaze. - -“Ah, what a long sleep you’ve had, child. Do you feel better?” she -asked. - -“Better!” cried Jessie, then a wave of memory swept over her, and she -moaned, “Oh, how terrible it was! How came I here? And he--oh, where is -he?” - -Madame took her hand and answered solemnly: - -“You may well ask, where is he? Poor child, how can I tell you -the dreadful truth? But you will have to bear it. He--poor Frank -Laurier--was killed stone-dead!” - -A shriek rang through the room--long, loud, heart-rending!--then Jessie -lay like one dead before the heartless woman. - -Madame Barto would never forget that day. - -Jessie Lyndon’s grief for Frank Laurier when she recovered from her -long swoon was indeed heart-rending. - -In vain madame expostulated: - -“Why should you take on so? You never saw him till yesterday!” - -“Oh, I cannot understand it, but I know that he was as dear to me as if -I had known him a year!” - -“A young girl must not give her heart unsought.” - -“Oh, madame, I did not. Oh, my heart!” - -The girl flung herself back on the pillows in an agony of grieving that -strangled words on her lips, and it was hours later when she asked -plaintively: - -“Where have they taken him?” - -Madame answered soothingly: - -“Two lady friends of his were in the park when he was killed--Mrs. -Dalrymple and Miss Ellyson of Fifth Avenue--and they had him conveyed -to their home.” - -Jessie instantly remembered the ladies she had seen in the victoria, -especially the dark, brilliant beauty who had frowned at her so blackly. - -She gasped faintly: - -“Oh, I must see him once more before he is hidden from me forever in -the cold, dark grave!” - -“Impossible!” cried madame sternly, and though the half-distraught girl -knelt to her in an agony of entreaty, she still refused her prayer. -Indeed, she could do no less, seeing what a falsehood she had told. - -Then Jessie grew angry and desperate. - -“You are wicked and heartless to tell me I cannot see him once before -he is buried! I defy you! I will go!” she cried, with a passion of -which madame had not believed her capable. - -The dark, dreamy eyes flashed defiance out of the deadly, pale face, -alarming Madame Barto so that she snatched up Jessie’s clothing and -bore them away in triumph, exclaiming: - -“There, now, I don’t think you will run off to Fifth Avenue in your -nightgown, miss!” - -And, locking the door on the outside, she left the poor girl to her -fate, forgetting that in Jessie’s closet there still remained hanging -the cheap, threadbare garments she had worn when she came. - -But Jessie remembered, and she quickly put them on again, the torn -calico gown, the broken shoes, the old sailor hat--then she drew aside -the curtain and looked out, starting to find that the gray November day -was near its close and the sky overcast with threatening snow clouds. - -How long it seemed since yesterday! He had been twenty-four hours dead. - -Dead! Oh, how impossible it seemed for such youth and strength and -beauty to be so quickly annihilated. His kiss still burned like fire on -her lips and thrilled warmly through her veins. - -“Oh, I must see him once again!” she sobbed, and pushed up the sash and -measured the distance to the ground with frantic eyes. - -It was only a story and a half, and a neglected awning rope fortunately -hung from her own window. With a low cry of joy, Jessie caught it and -knotted it to the window shutter. When it grew a little darker she -climbed up into the window and swung herself out, tremblingly, on the -frail support. - -Halfway down to the ground the rope broke with her weight, and gave -her a fall to the pavement, but the distance was not great, and with a -little, stifled moan of pain, she dragged herself up from the ground -and hurried off through the darkness, sobbing: - -“I know where Fifth Avenue is, and I will go there if it kills me. But -I hope that proud, beautiful lady will not be there to wither me with -her angry eyes!” - - - - -CHAPTER IX. AN HOUR TO BE REMEMBERED. - - -The Fifth Avenue mansion where Mrs. Dalrymple lived was little less -than a palace as she was little less than a princess, if royal beauty, -royal wealth, and almost royal state could count. Her parents were -dead, she was mistress of herself and many millions, and at barely -thirty-three, while looking scarcely twenty-five, had scores of hearts -at her feet from which to choose, if that way lay her happiness. - -Some said that she had been widowed young, others that she was -divorced, some that her heart was buried in a grave, others that she -was a man hater. No one ever heard her own that either was true. She -simply smiled and went her way, heedless of praise or blame. - -That autumn evening when she swept down the grand staircase into the -brilliantly lighted hall, her rich violet velvet robe trailing behind -her, her jewels flashing like stars, she heard an altercation at the -door. Her pompous servant was saying harshly: - -“You cannot come in here; no, indeed, there’s no use begging me, I tell -you. Go around to the servants’ entrance!” - -Mrs. Dalrymple stopped short, listening to the low, pleading, girlish -voice that half sobbed: - -“I tell you I’m not a beggar! Oh, do let me in to see Mr. Laurier just -once more!” - -The man was about to laugh rudely just as his mistress came up behind -him, exclaiming in her sweet, frosty voice: - -“What is the trouble here?” - -The man stepped back in dismay at the question, and a girlish form -rushed past him and knelt at the lady’s feet. - -It was Jessie Lyndon in her tattered garments, on which clung flecks -of melting snow, her face drawn and pallid with misery, the tears half -frozen on her cheeks, her form trembling with weariness, her beauty -half obscured by her miserable plight, as strange a contrast to that -palatial scene and the queenly woman before her as the mind could well -imagine. - -She knelt before the startled lady with upraised, pleading eyes and -pathetic clasped hands, imploring: - -“Oh, madam, forgive me this intrusion, but my heart is breaking! Oh, -will you let me see Mr. Laurier once before he is lost to me forever!” - -“Child, this is very strange!” - -“Oh, madam, let me explain! I have a right to see him. We were out -driving. There was such a dreadful accident! Oh, you can see for -yourself how my heart is breaking!” wailed the poor girl, losing all -control over her emotion, and sobbing outright. - -Mrs. Dalrymple cried out in the greatest wonder: - -“Why you are the little girl that was with Frank in the runaway -accident yesterday, are you not? How very, very strange you look and -act, poor child! You should not come here to see Mr. Laurier, you know. -It is not proper to do so, and, besides----” - -Jessie interrupted wildly: - -“Oh, madam, do not scold me, I pray you. I am wretched enough already. -Is there not a woman’s heart beating under your silks and jewels the -same as under my rags? Then pity me, I implore you, and grant the boon -I crave! Let me see him but once.” - -“All this is very strange to me, child, and for my life I cannot -understand why you should be so anxious to see Frank Laurier, but I -cannot resist your frenzied appeals, they touch me too deeply. He is -in there. Go in and speak to him!” waving her jeweled hand toward the -closed portières of a room on the left of the magnificent corridor. - -With a strangled sob, Jessie sprang toward the curtains. Impelled -by sympathy she could not understand, Mrs. Dalrymple followed her -footsteps. - -Frank Laurier was lying at ease on a sofa with one foot on a -cushion--having sustained a severe sprain to one ankle that would keep -him Mrs. Dalrymple’s welcome guest for several days. Some strips of -court plaster on the side of his face slightly marred his beauty to an -ordinary observer, but not to Jessie Lyndon, who, advancing at first -with slow, awed footsteps, suddenly stopped, stared, then flew across -the room to the sofa, murmuring in joyful incredulity: - -“Alive! Alive!” - -She sank on one knee, and pressed her lips tenderly on one hand that -was thrown carelessly above his head. - -“Why, that wicked woman told me you were dead! And I--I----” the sweet -voice faltered. - -A low, derisive laugh rang on the air, and, lifting her eyes, Jessie -saw that they were not alone. - -It was Cora Ellyson who had laughed, as with flashing eyes she pushed -Jessie away from Frank’s side. - -“Go away, you bold girl, how dare you force your way in here to annoy -Mr. Laurier?” she cried angrily. - -“Annoy him; I--it is not true! Do I annoy you?” pleaded Jessie -tremulously, turning to the young man whose handsome face twitched with -pain as he answered impatiently: - -“My dear Miss Lyndon, this is very strange on your part! To come -bursting into the room like this. What is the matter?” - -To the day of his death he would never forget what happened in that -room after his cold and haughty reception of little Jessie. - - - - -CHAPTER X. THE ENDING OF HER LOVE DREAM. - - -Laurier, startled, dismayed, and angered by Jessie’s sensational -entrance, had spoken to her more harshly and hastily than if he had -taken second thought. - -The hateful, mocking laugh from Cora Ellyson accentuated his words, and -Mrs. Dalrymple, who had paused just inside the door, gazed in wonder at -the strange scene. - -Instantly Jessie sprang to her feet. She stood still a moment, looking -at him with wounded love, doubt, fear, incredulity, all struggling -together in her great, soft, dark eyes like a dying fawn’s. - -Again Cora Ellyson laughed, low and mockingly--a hateful, significant -laugh that made Frank Laurier exclaim rebukingly: - -“Hush, Cora, you are unjust!” - -Then he looked at Jessie pityingly. He wished that he were not lame -that he might fly from the room to avoid the plaintive reproaches of -the one girl and the jealous fury of the other. Mrs. Dalrymple, who had -drawn gradually nearer and nearer, was listening with a face drawn with -deep emotion, but again Cora Ellyson’s scornful laugh rang through the -room, and before Jessie could speak again, she cried mockingly: - -“Pshaw, Frank, why not tell her the plain truth as you were telling me -before she came in when we made up our silly lovers’ quarrel? Listen, -Miss Lyndon; it was this way.” - -“Hush, Cora, do not wound her so!” he entreated, but she advanced and -stood close by him, silencing him by an imperious gesture, her rich -silken robes rustling, her jewels flashing, her proud, dark head lifted -haughtily as she surveyed her shrinking rival, poor Jessie, in her -worn, shabby garments and broken shoes. - -“It was this way, Miss Lyndon: Frank Laurier and I were plighted lovers -until three days ago, when we had a foolish little lovers’ quarrel and -parted, vowing never to meet again. But our wedding day was but a few -days off, and as soon as we separated both began to repent, but were -too proud to say so. Is not this true, Frank?” - -“Yes--but do not wound the child’s heart by telling her the rest,” he -implored, almost inaudibly. - -“Nonsense!” she answered lightly, and added: “This is the rest, Miss -Jessie Lyndon. Frank saw you, and, struck with your pretty face, -decided to pique me into a reconciliation by flirting with you. Hence -the drive in the park that resulted as he wished, in the making-up -of our little difference to-day, and I assure you that but for your -intrusion here this evening, he would never have given you another -thought!” - -She ended with a little, tinkling laugh of triumphant scorn that fell -like hailstones on the heart she had crushed. - -The cruel truth was out, and when the echo of that exultant laugh died -away there was a silence like death in the brilliant, sumptuous room. - -Frank Laurier, with a low, inarticulate cry, tried to rise from his -recumbent position, scarcely knowing what to do, but his sweetheart’s -jeweled hand on his shoulder firmly pressed him back, while they gazed -in rising awe at Jessie Lyndon. - -She stood among them a breathing statue of shame-stricken girlhood, the -hot color glowing in her cheeks, and mounting up to the roots of her -bright hair, her red lips parted and tremulous, the big tears hanging -like pearls on her lashes, her bosom rising and falling with emotion -beneath the shabby gown that could not hide the budding grace of her -perfect form. - -This poor girl, so fair, so friendless, to whom no one spoke one word -of sympathy, so terribly alone among them all, what would she do? - -For several moments she did not speak a word--she could not, for the -terrible, choking sensation in her throat, and the mad leaping of her -burdened heart in her breast--then, as the scarlet glow faded into -deadly pallor, she lifted her heavy eyes up to Cora Ellyson’s face. - -“I cannot bear it, God forgive me!” she cried, and the little hand -pressed to her lips a tiny vial, then flung it down empty as she rushed -from the room, eluding the detaining hand Mrs. Dalrymple stretched -forth. - -“She has taken poison! Follow, and bring her back!” shouted Frank -Laurier rising in alarm, then falling back with a groan on the sprained -foot that would not support his weight. - -“Pshaw, she was only shamming!” his proud sweetheart answered coolly, -helping him back to his sofa, and bending to press a kiss on his brow. - -But he did not notice the fond caress. He groaned in a sort of agony: - -“My God, it is all my fault; I did not realize what I was doing! If -she dies, poor girl, it will lie at my door, her cruel fate.” - -“Nonsense, Frank, it was not your fault, her making such a little fool -of herself, trying to catch a rich husband! Lie still, and compose -yourself! Aunt Verna will see about the silly creature!” drawing a -chair to his side and overwhelming him with attentions to banish Jessie -from his mind. - -Meanwhile the shame-stricken, frantic girl had rushed past Mrs. -Dalrymple’s outstretched arms to the corridor, and darting past the -astonished servant, tore open the door, and disappeared in the gloom of -the stormy night. - -“Follow her, and bring her back by force!” exclaimed his mistress, in -the wildest agitation. - -“It is storming wildly, madam. The air is filled with snow, and it is -deep already,” the man objected. - -“Go! Bring her back at once! I tell you go!” she stormed at him, and he -obeyed without further parley. - -Then her writhing lips parted in incoherent words: - -“Oh, God, this pain at my heart! That poor girl, she was so fatally -like my lost daughter, my stolen child, that I could scarcely refrain -from clasping her in my arms! Oh, if it should be my lost one! But, -no, she said that her mother was dead! Oh, why am I idling here? I -must telephone for a physician to be on hand when she is brought back. -Perhaps her sweet young life may be saved, and I will make it my care -henceforth for the sake of her haunting likeness to my lost darling!” - - * * * * * - -Poor Jessie had only carried out her intention on coming to see -Laurier, for life held so little charm for the unfortunate girl now -that all who loved her were dead that in desperation she had resolved -to end it all by suicide, that last resort of the wretched. - -In the room she occupied at Madame Barto’s was a case of medicine, and -from it she had selected the tiny vial labeled “Poison,” and filled -with a dark liquid. - -In her agony of shame it was worse to her than if Laurier had, indeed, -been dead. The dark unknown was welcome to her as the terrible present. - -Penniless, friendless, with no one to turn to, she yet dared not go -back to Madame Barto, fearing alike her wrath at her escape, and -the persecutions of her hated nephew. Crushed beneath the burden of -unendurable despair, she drained the vial, and fled out into the night -and the storm to die. - -The black night, inhospitable as the hearts she had left, greeted her -with storm and fury, driving her on before a furious gale that took -away her breath and tossed her to and fro, at last throwing her down -heavily, and striking her head against the curbing, so that in a minute -she became unconscious, and lay still at the mercy of the elements. - -The icy wind shrieked above her, the snow fell in thick, white sheets -and wrapped her in a shroud of royal ermine, and thus she lay silent -and moveless for about a quarter of an hour before she was found by the -man Mrs. Dalrymple had sent to seek and bring her back. - -She had barely gone half a square from the mansion, but in the stormy -gloom it was hard to find any one, and he was about to give up the -quest in despair of success when his foot stumbled against a soft body -under the snow. - -With a startled cry he stooped down and dragged her up in his arms, -bearing her to a little distance, where a light gleamed through a -window. By its aid he saw that it was she whom he sought. - -“But, poor little girl, she seems as dead as a door-nail! Howsomever, -I’ll carry her back to my mistress, dead or alive!” he muttered, -struggling on with his inert burden against the raging storm till he -gained the shelter of the mansion. - -Mrs. Dalrymple was waiting in the wildest anxiety, the physician having -already arrived, and been told the meager story that a poor young girl -had attempted suicide and rushed out into the storm to die. - -“I should like to see the vial and determine the nature of the poison,” -said Doctor Julian gravely, and he was keenly disappointed when Cora -Ellyson confessed that she had inadvertently trod on it and crushed it, -so that she had to call a servant to remove the fragments. - -“That is very unfortunate, as a knowledge of the poison taken would -have materially assisted in finding the antidote,” he said, and -the servant was quickly summoned by his mistress to bring back the -fragments. - -The answer was that they had been consumed in the kitchen range. - -Directly afterward the girl’s stiffening body was brought in and -laid down upon the floor before their eyes--a hapless sight that -wrung anguished groans from Frank Laurier’s lips, though his proud -sweetheart looked on coldly and unmoved, perhaps secretly glad in her -heart of this calamity. - -One glance at the pale, cold face in its frame of wet, disheveled gold, -and the physician said sadly: - -“Poor child, I can do nothing. She is already dead!” - -“Oh, no, no, no, do not say such dreadful words! She must not die!” -sobbed Mrs. Dalrymple, giving way to wild emotion as she knelt by -Jessie, tore open her gown, and felt eagerly for the heart. - -“Oh, Doctor Julian, feel here! Is not there some slight pulsation?” -hopefully. - -“Not the faintest, my dear madam. The deadly potion did its work -quickly. The lovely girl is dead! Ah, how remarkable!” bending with a -start to examine a mark on the young girl’s breast where it was exposed -by the open gown. - -Doctor Julian was an old man, the family physician, and he added -surprisedly: - -“See that red cross on her breast! It is precisely similar to your -family birthmark, and if I mistake not, you have one like it yourself!” - -“Precisely similar, doctor, and on the same spot--oh, Heaven, how -strange this seems! My lost child--so cruelly stolen from me ere I had -given her any name but darling--had the same mark! What if--what if---- -Oh, my brain reels with wild suspicion. Could it be----” - -“Calm yourself, my dear madam. This may be but a coincidence! However, -it ought to be investigated to-morrow.” - -“It shall be,” she sobbed, then started as Cora Ellyson cried -impatiently: - -“Are you going to leave that dead girl lying there all night? I declare -I shall faint if she is not removed!” - -“Cora!” expostulated her lover; but she shrugged her shoulders -haughtily. - -Doctor Julian glanced at her in surprise, then said gently, to Mrs. -Dalrymple: - -“What disposition will be made of the poor girl’s body?” - -“It shall remain in my care, doctor, and the funeral shall be in my -charge from this house, and at my own expense,” she sobbed. - -Cora Ellyson started forward indignantly, crying: - -“Dear aunt, you surely forget that my wedding is the third day from -now. The girl shall not be buried from here. It would be unseemly amid -wedding gayeties!” - -“The wedding must be postponed!” the proud woman sighed, lifting -Jessie’s cold little hand and pressing her lips upon it. - -“It shall not. Postponements are unlucky!” Cora uttered angrily. - -“Just a few days, dear--until next week, say,” whispered her lover, who -could scarcely turn his horrified gaze from that fair, dead face before -him to his pouting sweetheart. - -He was recalling the words Jessie had used in speaking of Carey Doyle’s -frustrated attempt to kiss her lips: - -“I should have died of disgust!” - -How he had laughed at the idea of any one dying of a kiss, but looking -at that still form on the floor, he felt as if he had the brand of Cain -on his high, white brow. - -“Her death lies at my door!” he thought, in a passion of remorse. - -They bore Jessie tenderly from his presence to a beautiful white and -gold room near Mrs. Dalrymple’s own, and there the lady’s favorite -maid robed the lovely form for the grave in beautiful white robes fit -for a bride, selected from the wardrobe of her mistress. Then, laid -on a soft, white couch with her golden locks drifting about her like -sunshine on snow, and fragrant flowers between her waxen hands, she lay -like one asleep in her calm, unearthly beauty. - -And by her side Mrs. Dalrymple kept lonely vigil, distracted by doubts -and fears lest this prove to be her own lost darling restored to her -only in death. - -Toward midnight a stealthy figure glided in--Cora Ellyson, in a crimson -silk dressing gown with her raven hair streaming loose over her -shoulders. - -“Aunt Verna, you will make yourself sick, staying up like this! And -what is the use?” remonstratingly. - -There was no answer from the heavy-eyed woman brooding over the dead -girl’s couch, and Cora continued eagerly: - -“I beg you to reconsider your decision. Send this body away to the -undertaker’s and let the funeral be from there, so that my wedding need -not be overshadowed by so evil an omen.” - -“I cannot grant your request, Cora. The funeral will take place from -this house, and your wedding must be postponed,” came the sad but firm -reply. - -“I tell you it shall not. I will not be disappointed for a hysterical -sentiment. This poor girl is nothing to you, nothing! I give you notice -that unless you do as I wish I will remove to-morrow to my Cousin van -Dorn’s and have my wedding from his house Thursday!” - -“Please yourself, Cora, but do not presume to dictate to me! And now, -go; leave me, I prefer to be alone!” with a flash of spirit. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. A BREAKING HEART. - - -Madame Barto did not expect any customers the next morning; it was so -still, so dark and lowering after the night’s storm, but at ten o’clock -the bell clanged loudly and she admitted a beautiful, richly dressed -woman who said excitedly: - -“No, I do not wish my fortune told, but I will pay you well for any -information about a young girl who has been living with you--Jessie -Lyndon.” - -“She ran away from me last night, the little vixen, and I did not -discover it till this morning,” the fortune teller answered sullenly. - -“Do not speak unkindly of the dead. Jessie Lyndon was found dead in the -snow by one of my servants last night, and she is at my house awaiting -burial,” was the startling reply. - -“Good heavens! Poor little thing!” ejaculated Madame Barto, with a -touch of sympathy. - -“I have come,” continued the lady, with a quivering lip, “to get all -the information possible about this young girl’s antecedents.” - -“’Tis little I can give you, ma’am, in truth. She only stayed with me a -day or so, but I can give you the address of Mrs. Ryan, the woman who -brought her to me, and ’tis likely she can tell you all you want to -know, though I don’t think she has any folks rich enough to bury her, -poor thing, and, of course, she has no claim on me,” added Madame Barto -apprehensively. - -The caller gave her a haughty glance. - -“I am not looking for any one to pay Jessie Lyndon’s burial expenses, -my good woman,” she said freezingly; “Mrs. Ryan’s address, please, and -take this for your trouble,” pressing a gold piece into the ready palm, -and sweeping out to her waiting car. - -“Whew! What a highflyer, to be sure! And liberal, too! I wish I knew -her name! There, she’s dropped a dainty handkerchief! Here ’tis in the -corner--Dalrymple! The same woman Carey told me about. I see how it -all happened now. She got out of the window, poor little Jessie, for, -after all, she was a sweet, pretty girl, and went to Fifth Avenue to -find the man she believed dead! Then the blizzard caught and killed her -in sight of the house! I’m free to own I am sorry, for I wished her no -harm, only when my nephew told me about Mr. Laurier’s angry sweetheart, -I thought just as well to keep Jessie out of his way for her own good. -Well, well, Carey will be coming presently, and what a fit he will be -in when he learns she is dead, poor Jessie Lyndon!” - -Mrs. Dalrymple drove straight to Mrs. Ryan’s house, and found the good -little woman at home busy with her needle. From her she learned enough -to convince her that the hapless girl was no other than her lost child. - -She stayed and listened to the woman’s harrowing story, and the tears -fell in torrents when she learned all that Jessie, brave little Jessie, -so lovely and so ill-fated, had suffered from the ills of poverty, -while her mother would have given all her millions to find her lost -child, her sole heiress. - -All her pride gave way before the humble little woman, who had been -kind to the orphan girl, and she confessed the truth that she was -Jessie’s mother, the woman from whom an angry, unforgiving husband had -stolen away her heart’s idol, her little child. - -Mrs. Ryan could not look into that proud, noble face, and believe she -was the bad woman Mrs. Godfrey suspected. Her kind heart went out to -her in sympathy, and she said: - -“It’s been hard lines on yees both, lady, but yees can make it up to -bonny Jessie now!” - -“Did I not tell you? Alas, she is dead, my darling!” And at that moving -story Mrs. Ryan’s heart was almost broken. - -“You will come and see her, will you not? She looks like an angel, so -fair, so pure, so peaceful!” the bereaved mother cried, on leaving, and -in her gratitude for the woman’s kindness to Jessie she pressed on her -a sum of money that seemed like riches itself to the toil-worn creature -whose heart had kept warm and human through all the trials of pinching -poverty. - -Mrs. Dalrymple hastened home and found Frank and Cora together, the -latter having just returned from arranging to celebrate her marriage at -her cousin’s home, instead of here. She was complaining most bitterly -to her lover of her aunt’s injustice, but he said impatiently: - -“Cora, pray do not harp on this subject any more unless you would have -me believe you heartless!” - -Her eyes flashed with resentment, but before she could utter the angry -reply that trembled on her lips, Mrs. Dalrymple swept into the room, -and between broken sobs, told them of her cruel discovery of her -child’s identity when all too late to save her life. - -“Last night when she stood talking to you so sadly I was dazed, -confused, by a subtle something in her voice, glance, and gestures that -recalled the past,” she said. “At last it struck me with staggering -force that she reminded me of my divorced husband, while at the same -time she bore a startling resemblance to my lost child. I was struck -dumb with emotion, and could not move! Then that terrible thing -happened. You know the rest--how Doctor Julian found on her breast the -family birthmark. To-day it was easy to find the links in the chain -that proved her my own, so long lost to me, and found, alas, only -in--death!” - -The pale, beautiful face drooped upon her breast in pitiful despair -as she cried: “May God send his curse upon the man who made my life -desolate, and robbed me of my child, my only comfort!” - -Frank Laurier’s handsome face was pale with emotion as he faltered: - -“Mrs. Dalrymple, I dare not ask you to forgive me for my share in your -grief, it is beyond pardon. She did not forgive me, nor can you, I -know. I feel that the sight of me must be hateful to you, so I shall -trespass no longer on your hospitality. I leave to-day, but I pray you -to believe that my undying remorse will be my bitterest punishment.” - -She could well believe it from his pallid face and dejected mien, but -she could not bring the word forgive to her trembling lips. When she -remembered the previous night and the shame and pain of her hapless -child that had hurried her cruelly out of life she felt like crying -out upon him in mad resentment for what he had done. - -As for Cora, she was stunned into silence by the strange story she had -heard. - -She dared no longer inveigh against her aunt’s injustice. She could -only bow to the inevitable. But fully determined not to risk the evil -omen of a postponed marriage, she withdrew to her cousin’s house that -day after forcing herself to utter some meaningless expressions of -sympathy to the relative she was deserting in her hour of sorrow. - -“You must forgive me, but dear Frank is so averse to a postponement,” -she twittered, and Mrs. Dalrymple did not contradict her, though she -knew it was not the truth. - -She had seen within the last few hours a subtle change pass over the -young man. - -From being so passionately in love with beautiful Cora that he was -willfully blind to her glaring faults, a chill seemed to have passed -over him, making him temporarily cold to the fascinating blandishments -of his triumphant betrothed. - -Mrs. Dalrymple read in his sudden reserve and indifference that he -would not be averse to a postponement out of sympathy with the house of -mourning, but nothing was further from Cora Ellyson’s selfish thoughts. - -Mrs. Dalrymple also knew something that Cora did not guess. - -When the beautiful, white casket had been borne into the house some -time ago and Jessie’s still form was laid in it, her golden head -pillowed on fragrant flowers after pressing so many thorns in life, -Frank Laurier had gone on his crutch to the room, and spent half an -hour alone with the beautiful dead. - -The mother, who watched him, herself unseen, had seen in his deep-blue -eyes, as they rested on her darling’s face, that look that cannot be -mistaken, the dawning of a great and silent love. - -Cora Ellyson’s rival dead was more dangerous to her peace than in life. - -In her grave she would hold the best part of the heart that Cora -claimed as all her own. - -The bereaved mother had seen him press reverent lips on the shining -mass of golden hair, had heard him murmur solemnly: “Jessie, darling, -can you hear me pray for your forgiveness?” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. AN EVIL OMEN. - - -Thursday morning dawned fair and sunny with all traces of Tuesday -night’s storm swept away--the streets clean, the skies blue, the -air crisply cold--the day set for Jessie Lyndon’s funeral and Frank -Laurier’s wedding. - -In the grand parlor of Mrs. Dalrymple’s home the dead girl lay like one -asleep, in a white casket banked with rarest flowers whose delicate -perfume pervaded the whole house. In yesterday’s newspapers a brief -announcement had been made: - - “DIED.--Suddenly, at her mother’s residence, No. 1512A Fifth Avenue, - Tuesday evening, Darling, only daughter of Mrs. Verna Dalrymple. - - “Friends and relatives of the family are respectfully invited to - attend the funeral services from the family residence, Thursday noon. - Interment at Greenwood.” - -In other columns of the newspaper longer paragraphs were given to the -grand noon wedding of the young millionaire, Frank Laurier, to the -brilliant society belle and heiress, Miss Cora Ellyson. It would be a -grand church wedding and the floral decorations were superb, while the -trousseau, lately arrived from Paris, was simply magnificent. Pictures -of the prospective bride and groom, intertwined with true-lovers’ -knots, were duly printed for the benefit of an admiring public. - -As the hour of noon drew near, Mrs. Dalrymple’s house was filled with -sympathetic guests, to whose ears had floated rumors of the sad ending -of her long grief for her stolen child--recovered only in death. When -they saw Darling Dalrymple in her coffin--her mother had never given -her any name but Darling--they wept in sympathy with the bereaved heart -from whom this lovely treasure had been so cruelly wrested by the grim -King of Terrors. - -The beautiful Episcopal service was read, the mother’s farewell kiss -pressed on the cold, white brow, the casket closed, and borne out to -the white-plumed hearse, the carriages were filled with the mother and -friends, and the solemn cortège moved away to Greenwood, where the grim -family vault had been opened to receive another scion of the old house -of Van Dorn, the fairest of all its fair daughters. - -At the same time only a block away, on the same avenue, a bridal train -was leaving the Van Dorn mansion for the church. - -Life and death jostling each other almost side by side! - -In one carriage sat the bride, with her cousins, the Van Dorns, and her -dark, brilliant beauty was at its best, enhanced by the snowy bridal -robes and the joy that flashed from her eyes at the thought that she -would soon be the bride of the man she adored. - -Laurier and his best man were to meet them at the church, the -bridegroom having recovered sufficiently from his sprain that he could -walk without a crutch. - -In the sunshine of the brilliant day the two processions met and passed -each other, the bridal train and the funeral cortège--Cora going to -her bridal, her rival to her grave! - -The bride’s eyes were riveted on the white, flower-banked casket, and -her florid color faded to ashen pallor while she shrank back shuddering: - -“It is an evil omen to meet a corpse on the way to one’s wedding!” - -“Do not give way to such fancies, dear,” Mrs. van Dorn answered -soothingly, but she also grew pale with superstition, though having -heard all about Jessie from Cora, she thought inwardly: - -“Though it is evil-omened to meet a funeral on the way to one’s -wedding, yet I fancy Cora is more fortunate to meet her rival dead -than living. Though Frank Laurier treated that poor girl very badly, I -believe that a secret remorse is gnawing at his heart, and if she had -lived, who knows how it all might have turned out? Frank Laurier has -appeared very strange to me these past two days--pale, distrait, and -sad--the result of keen remorse, no doubt, but does he love Cora as -well as before, I wonder! This encounter with the dead girl has shaken -my nerves, and I feel uneasy. I wish the wedding was well over, and the -knot safely tied for Cora’s sake. I hope he will be sure to meet us -promptly at the church!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. FORSAKEN AT THE ALTAR. - - -Mrs. Dalrymple, throwing back her heavy veil for air, gasped with -surprise and wonder. - -She could not have dreamed of seeing Frank Laurier at the funeral -services at the Van Dorn vault when it was the hour for his wedding at -old Trinity. - -Yet there he stood in their midst, his handsome head bowed reverently, -his face pale, his eyes heavy with grief--he who should be so happy in -this his bridal hour! - -Catching her startled glance, he moved to her side, whispering sadly: - -“I could not stay away, but I shall be in time to meet Cora at Trinity. -Ah, how my heart aches with this cruel blow! Let me love you as a -son for her dear sake!”--he paused, with a long-drawn sigh, for the -venerable bishop was beginning the last sad rites: “Ashes to ashes, -dust to dust.” - -Soon they had to come away and leave her there alone, sweet Jessie, -among her dead kindred, she whose brief life had been so sad and -lonely, ending with so cruel a tragedy. - - So fare thee well, sweet friend of mine, - Veiled now from sight - By death’s dark night, - Thou givest back no word or sign. - - I leave thee with the violets white, - By truth caressed, - In perfect rest, - And bid thee, dear, a fond good-night. - -Frank Laurier, accompanied by his best man, Ernest Noel, returned to -their coupé, and outside the cemetery limits ordered the coachman to -proceed as fast as possible to old Trinity to meet the bridal party. - -Noel thought that this attendance on a funeral in the very hour of his -marriage was a very strange freak on the part of his friend, and he was -puzzled yet more by the gravity and sadness of Laurier’s face as they -drove swiftly along toward the church. - -But having no clew to the enigma, he tried to dismiss it from his mind, -glancing at his watch and saying: - -“By George, we are due at Trinity now, and it would be shocking to get -there late--a slight the bride would not easily forgive!” - -He was astonished that Laurier made no reply, sitting pale and grave -and seemingly indifferent in his seat as if he had not heard. - -Noel shrugged his shoulders, and called to the coachman: - -“Drive as fast as you dare. We are already late!” - -Thereupon the horse was urged to a higher rate of speed, and presently -there was a commotion outside, and the coupé stopped. - -“What is the matter?” inquired Noel, putting his head outside, and thus -encountering a burly policeman. - -“You are under arrest for fast driving,” grunted the guardian of the -law. - -“But, good heavens, man, you must not detain us. It is necessary for us -to drive fast in order to reach old Trinity for a wedding ceremony,” -expostulated Noel. - -“Wedding or no wedding, all three of you must come to the station house -with me,” answered the policeman, who was both surly and dull-witted. - -Laurier suddenly aroused himself to the situation, and united his -expostulations to Noel’s, but all to no avail. - -The policeman would not hear to letting them go. He said to himself he -would “teach them young bloods a lesson.” He did not credit at all the -story of the wedding party waiting at the church. - -Laurier, suddenly realizing the situation, and thinking of Cora’s anger -and mortification at having to wait for him so long, grew frantic. - -He whispered to Noel: - -“Would it be any use to offer him a bribe to let us go?” - -“No, he is so malicious he would get us indicted for trying to bribe -him in the discharge of duty.” - -Laurier turned to the stubborn policeman, asking politely: - -“Could you not take our names and let us report to the police court -to-morrow?” - -“They may do that at the station house, but I am obliged to arrest you -and take you there. Come, the longer you parley the more time you are -losing! I’ll just jump up with your driver so we can lose no time.” - -Noel whispered excitedly: - -“Suppose we cut and run while he is getting on the box? We could easily -get a cab.” - -“Done!” And they slipped out unperceived on either side, to the vast -amusement of a good-natured crowd that had collected on the corner. - -Unfortunately the policeman caught the snickering at his expense, just -as the coupé drove off, and turned his red head curiously back, at once -catching sight of the fugitives. - -“Stop!” he shouted angrily, springing down to follow. - -A hot chase ensued, but as the sympathies of the spectators were all -with the handsome young men, the poor policeman got no assistance, and -presently he was outdistanced by the agile sprinters, and gave up the -pursuit just a minute too soon, for, in turning a corner at breakneck -speed, Frank Laurier collided with a bicycle and went down like a rock. - -“Good heavens!” cried Ernest Noel, stopping short in horror above the -wreck, the shattered wheel, and the two prostrate men. - -They had both sustained injuries, but the rider directly got up on his -feet, and declared himself all right save for a few bruises. - -Not so with Frank Laurier, who lay like one dead before them, with his -fair, handsome face upturned to the light, his eyes closed, and a dark -bruise on the side of his temple, showing where he had struck it in -falling against the curbstone. All efforts to revive him failed, and a -physician who was called declared it was a case of concussion of the -brain and that the patient must be removed at once to Bellevue Hospital. - -“No, no--he is”--began Ernest Noel quickly, but at that moment the -red-headed policeman trotted on the scene with a bewildered air, -awakening such instant fierce resentment in his breast that he sprang -at him, exclaiming hotly: - -“You red-headed villain, you are the cause of all this trouble! I -should like to throttle you!” - -Whereupon the indignant officer raised his club and brought it down on -the cranium of the hot-headed young man with such telling effect that -he was quite stunned, and fell an easy victim to arrest, being removed -in an ambulance to the station house, while his poor friend, whose -identity was equally unknown, was taken to Bellevue Hospital. - -What an ending to a day that had been anticipated for months with the -ardor of a true lover. Instead of wedding bells the slow procession to -the grave, and now--far from the festal scene, alone among strangers -who did not suspect his identity with the young millionaire Frank -Laurier, terribly injured, perhaps unto death, how strange and sad a -fate! - -And the bride--poor girl!--so beautiful, so proud, so imperious, who -can picture the depths of her pain and humiliation, waiting more than -an hour at the thronged, fashionable church for a laggard bridegroom -who never came, who sent no excuse, who left her to suffer under one of -the cruelest blows woman’s heart can bear--forsaken at the altar! - -She was taken home again by her relatives, a pallid, wild-eyed, -half-frantic girl, vowing bitterest vengeance on her recreant lover as -she stripped the bridal veil from her dark, queenly head, and tramped -it angrily beneath her feet. - -“Thus I trample on the past, on all the love I bore him, and vow -myself to vengeance!” she cried madly, to her cousin, Mrs. van Dorn, -whose eyes filled with sympathetic tears as she cried: - -“It is a cruel blow, dear Cora, but do not be too rash in your anger. -Perhaps something happened to prevent Frank’s coming and everything may -yet be explained to your satisfaction.” - -But her consoling words rang hollow in her own ears, for she thought: - -“I had a presentiment of this on the way to the church. I felt certain -that he would fail to meet Cora there. Oh, it was very cruel in him -to wound the poor girl so. It is a disgrace that will cling to a girl -through life, being jilted at the altar. How much kinder it would -have been to break with her sooner and avoid a public exposé like the -painful one we have had to-day. I feel almost as indignant as Cora at -the slight put on our family!” - -Later on her husband looked in at the dressing-room door, saying kindly: - -“How is Cora, poor child? I have something to tell her about Laurier if -I may come in!” - -“Speak quickly!” cried the half-distraught girl, turning almost -fiercely upon him. “Has anything happened to the wretch?” - -“I was just about to say that I just now met Hazelton, and he told me -he saw Laurier and Noel at Greenwood when the funeral services over -your aunt’s daughter were concluded at the vault.” - -“At her funeral--in our bridal hour! False, wicked wretch! I will never -forgive him, never! May the curse of a forsaken bride blight his life -from now to the grave! May the cruelest misfortunes of life overtake -him!” raved the insulted girl in the madness of her wounded love and -pride. - -“Be calm, Cora, I shall avenge this slight to you,” her cousin said -angrily, and just then he received a summons from downstairs. - -It was sunset, and Ernest Noel, very pale and shaken, had just been -released on bail and come to bring them the news of all that had -happened to prevent Laurier from meeting his bride at the altar--lying -instead at a hospital at the point of death. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. WAVES OF MEMORY. - - -When Laurier and Noel had both been taken away, the man whose bicycle -had been the cause of their calamity stood alone among the curious -onlookers gazing somewhat ruefully at the ruin of his wheel. - -He was a fair-haired, fine-looking gentleman approaching middle age, -and his blue eyes had in them a grave, sad expression, as of one who -had looked on the sadder side of life. - -To one and another he put the question: “Who were those two young men?” - -No one could give him any satisfaction, and he was turning away, -leaving the broken wheel to its fate when a reporter approached the -scene, observing: - -“I should like to get your name, sir, for my report of this accident -for my evening paper.” - -“Ah!--say John Smith,” the stranger returned impatiently, walking -quickly away from his interlocutor and disappearing down a side street. - -He stopped presently in a café for a glass of wine to settle his shaken -nerves. - -He could not get out of his mind the handsome, unconscious face of -Laurier as it lay upturned to the winter sunlight after the shocking -accident. - -“I would give all I own if it had not happened,” he thought -sorrowfully; “although I know I am not to blame, for he dashed into me -full tilt as we turned the corner; still, I feel in a way responsible, -and I shall go to-morrow to Bellevue to inquire about his case, and to -lend any financial aid required. But that will scarcely be necessary, I -suppose, as both the young fellows were most expensively dressed as if -for some elegant social function--perhaps a noon reception or wedding. -The mysterious part of the affair is, what were they doing sprinting -along the streets in that garb, and pursued by a policeman?” - -He finished his wine, tipped the obsequious waiter, took a cigar, and -strolled into the reading room to smoke. - -As the blue wreaths of smoke curled over his fair head thrown -carelessly back, exposing the clear-cut, spirited features, his -thoughts ran thus: - -“What an unlucky devil I am, anyway! If the Fates had had any mercy, -they would have stretched me dead on the sidewalk instead of that -handsome youth who doubtless had much in life to live for--everything, -perhaps, that I have not--youth, love, happiness, home, while I am a -lonely wanderer on the face of the earth. To her, false heart, I owe it -all! Can I ever forgive her heartless desertion?” - -A heavy frown came between his brows as he continued: - -“What a return after my years of exile and toil--my sister and her -husband dead, their children and my precious daughter lost to me in the -mazes of this great, wicked city. For a week now I have vainly sought -to trace them, but since my sister’s death and her husband’s removal -I can find no trace save the item accidentally read in the _World_ of -John Lyndon’s accident and death. I have been to the hospital where he -died, but they can give me no clew to his family. He was buried at the -city’s expense, they said, so they must be in the direst poverty. Oh, -what a cruel fate must be theirs, dear little ones! Oh, my Jessie, my -bright-eyed darling, I wronged you after all in taking my revenge on -her! You would have fared better in her care. Oh, if God will only let -me find you, my sweet one, I will make it up to you by such devotion as -the world never knew! Jessie! Jessie!” and his head sank on his hands -while the fire of his cigar went out in ashes. - -Again he lifted his head with a start at the sound of a footstep. Other -men were entering. They must not find him moping like a woman. - -He took up a newspaper and looked over it at random. It bore -yesterday’s date, but that did not matter. He was only pretending to -read. - -The column of deaths came before his eyes, and almost mechanically he -read the first funeral notice: - - “DIED.--Suddenly, at her mother’s residence, No. 1512A Fifth Avenue, - Tuesday evening, Darling, only daughter of Mrs. Verna Dalrymple. - - “Friends and relatives of the family are respectfully invited to - attend the funeral services from the family residence, Thursday noon. - Interment at Greenwood.” - -“Merciful Heaven!” - -The words breathed low and faintly over the man’s suddenly blanched -lips, and the paper shook in his nervous grasp while his eyes stared in -a sort of incredulous horror at the printed words that moved him so. - -Thoughts flew like lightning through his brain: - -“Darling Dalrymple! What does it mean? It cannot be possible that -she ever recovered the child! No, for the poor, kindly folk who were -at my poor sister’s deathbed told me of her lovely, gentle daughter, -golden-haired Jessie, with the big, soft, dark eyes and the tender, -rosy lips, to whom the mother clung in dying, bidding her be a little -mother to Mark and Willie. No, it could not be Jessie. She has most -likely adopted a child in place of her lost daughter--a child that -death has taken away!” - -He remained silently musing with his eyes on the death notice till -every printed word seemed photographed on his brain. - -“Verna Dalrymple--Darling Dalrymple! How strange that she did not throw -away the name with all the rest that it stood for--fickle heart! I -suppose she had to keep it for the child’s sake, sweet little Jessie! -Ah, how strange we never guessed she was coming! If we had known how -different all might have been! I must have been more patient of her -fretting, she more tender of my restlessness under misfortune! The -dear little one coming must have held our hearts together--hearts now -so terribly sundered!” And Leon Dalrymple bowed his fair head heavily -while waves of memory swept across his heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. FORGETFULNESS, THE GREAT PANACEA. - - -A lonely life and much brooding inclines the mind to strange aspects. - -Leon Dalrymple’s thoughts dwelt persistently on the dead girl--his -divorced wife’s adopted daughter as he believed. - -He felt a painful, almost jealous curiosity over her, wondering if she -had usurped the love that belonged to Jessie as well as her place in -her mother’s home. - -“I should like to look upon her face!” he repeated over and over to -himself, and the desire grew at last into a bold determination. - -The early autumn twilight found him at the cemetery, whispering into -the ear of the feeble old sexton who recoiled with surprise at his -proposition: - -“No, sir, no, it would be as much as my place is worth! I can’t do it!” -he protested, but the clink of gold made him change his opinion. - -“It is nothing, after all--only to give me one look at the dead girl’s -face! What could they do to you even if they discovered the truth?” -Dalrymple repeated impatiently, and he redoubled his bribe. - -The cupidity of the old man made him falter in his opposition, and as -a result they entered the vault just as the darkness of night settled -over the earth, the sexton carrying a dark lantern, whose glare he -turned on the bank of flowers that surrounded the casket, blending -their rich, rare odors with the noisome odors of mortality. - - The dead are in their silent graves, - And the earth is cold above; - And the living weep and sigh - Over dust that once was love! - -They advanced toward the casket, but suddenly each recoiled and glared -at the other. - -“What was that? It sounded like a stifled moan!” exclaimed Dalrymple, -in alarm. - -“Nothing but the wind in the trees,” exclaimed the old sexton, -recovering himself, and wrenching loose the lid of the casket, sending -out gusts of rich fragrance from the covering of tuberoses. - -A moment more, and the casket was open, Dalrymple advancing with a -quickened heartthrob to gaze on the silent sleeper. - -It was a startling scene. - -The old vault dark and grim, with rows of dead-and-gone aristocrats -ranged around, in the center the bier banked with flowers, supporting -the casket that held--not a dead girl, but a living one, for as the two -men gazed with bated breath on the exquisite face, a second low moan -sounded on the air, and then a pair of large, soft, wondering, dark -eyes opened suddenly, and gazed up into their startled faces! - -It was enough to shake the nerves of the strongest man, to see the dead -thus suddenly come to life, and the old sexton was not strong--in fact, -he had suffered for years from an organic disease of the heart. - -So the shock was more than his weak heart could bear. - -His face changed to an ashen hue, his old eyes dilated wildly, his -frame shook like a leaf in the wind, his knees knocked together, and -finally, with an awful groan, he sank in a senseless heap on the floor -of the vault. - -Dalrymple took no heed of the old man’s fate. All his attention was -riveted on the girl struggling back to life from her place among the -dead. - -It was no strange face that he gazed on, for years ago he had kissed a -fair, childish face with lineaments like these, as he placed the little -one in his tender sister’s arms, saying: - -“Call her Jessie Lyndon, after yourself, dear, and train her up to be -noble and loving and true, as you have always been. I would not have -her brought up by her proud, rich, heartless mother, who deserted me -for my poverty, but rather as you have been, dear, to make a loving -wife to your husband through all reverses. I leave her in your care, -and I will send you ample money for her support, but Heaven alone knows -whether I shall ever return to the land where I have suffered such a -cruel shipwreck of my happiness.” - -That was twelve long years ago that he had wreaked what he believed -justifiable revenge on a heartless wife, goaded by ceaseless brooding -on his wrongs that had well-nigh turned his brain. Then he had exiled -himself from his native land and became a lonely wanderer. - - I go, but whereso’er I flee - There’s not an eye will weep for me. - There’s not a kind, congenial heart - Where I may claim the smallest part. - -He had but one solace, and that was in his art. Music had always been a -passion with him until love had become its rival. Now Cupid had fled, -he turned back to his old love. Drifting to Germany, he found congenial -friends, and for some years made a meager living for himself and child, -sending all he could spare to America for his golden-haired darling. - -Then came that long, long illness that swallowed up almost a year of -his life in a hospital--that strange illness that baffled the learned -physicians, some declaring it was melancholy madness, others an -unaccountable loss of memory, but all agreeing that it must have been -brought about by long brooding over something that had become almost a -monomania. - - The whirlwind followed upon my brain and beat my thoughts to rack, - Who knows how many a month I lay ere memory floated back? - -When strength slowly returned and with it some glimmerings of painful -memory, a clever man, the wisest physician at the hospital, said to him: - -“You have been strangely ill, and the wisest among us could not rightly -name your disease, but it was next door to madness. I have studied your -case with keen interest, and I learn that you are a lonely man much -given to brooding and moping. Am I right in suspecting that you have a -hopeless sorrow hidden in your past?” - -Leon Dalrymple could only bend his blond, curly head in silent assent. - -“I knew it,” said the wise physician, and he added kindly: - -“Cease brooding over this ill that you cannot remedy, for that way -madness lies. Forgetfulness is the only panacea for a hopeless grief. -You are a musician, they tell me. Give it up for a more practical -life. The greatest bard in the world has written that music is the -food of love. Thus it only ministers to your sorrow. Cast it aside for -a totally different life. If you were strong enough, I should say try -manual labor, that in exhausting the body, dulls and wearies the mind, -curing its ills of brooding and melancholy. Try the Australian gold -fields. Get rich and practical.” - -The patient took his advice. - -After years of toil and travel, when body and mind were both restored, -he had permitted himself to dwell again with yearning memory on the -past. - -He was aghast when he counted up twelve years since he had come away. - -“I must go home to my little Jessie!” he cried. - -He had kissed her as a child and gone away--he found her again almost -a woman, lying among funeral flowers in her soft, white shroud, but, -thank Heaven, with the breath of life faintly heaving her bosom, and -dawning in the dark of her tender eyes. - -“Jessie, Jessie!” he cried, in a transport of joy, but she knew him -not; her glance was dazed and frightened at her grim, unfamiliar -surroundings. - -It came to him suddenly that if she recovered consciousness fully and -found she had been buried alive the shock might be too great for her -reason. - -She had closed her eyes again with a tired sigh, so he lifted her -tenderly from her white satin bed, and bearing her outside, wrapped her -carefully in his long, dark overcoat. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. WHEN A MAN HATES. - - -Rapid thoughts were revolving in his mind: - -“I will take her far away from New York, my precious daughter, and her -mother shall never know that she is not lying in the old vault among -her dead-and-gone kindred, the proud Van Dorns. The rest of her sweet -life shall belong to the plebian father her mother despised.” - -Suddenly he remembered the old sexton lying, as he supposed, in a heavy -swoon on the floor of the vault. - -“Can I purchase his silence?” he wondered, laying Jessie’s quiet form -down on the dry grass while he returned to the vault. - -It gave him a shock to find that the old man was quite dead, but -directly he began to perceive that the sudden death would help his -plans materially. - -“Poor old man, I am very sorry about it, but it makes my secret safe. -Now, I will lay him with the lantern and the vault keys some distance -away in one of the paths, so that when he is found in the morning no -one will suspect what has happened here,” he thought, as he lifted the -frame of the old man and bore it some distance away, placing beside it -the lantern and keys as if he had fallen dead on the spot. - -“God rest his soul!” he murmured, bending over the still form and -placing in his inner coat pocket a sum of money more than sufficient to -defray his burial expenses. - -“For who knows but he may have left a widow and orphans who will mourn -bitterly to-morrow when he is found here dead,” he thought, with a -sigh, as he turned from the spot, returning to Jessie, who lay faintly -breathing, but not yet fully conscious, on the grass. - -“Now to get safely away from here before she awakes and realizes the -horror of her position,” he muttered, fastening the long overcoat -tightly around her to conceal her white robes as he bore her in his -arms out of the beautiful cemetery, past glimmering statues marking the -last repose of world-worn hearts. - - The mossy marbles rest - On the lips that we have pressed - In their bloom. - And the names we loved to hear - Have been carved for many a year - On the tomb. - -Once safely in the street, he ventured to call a taxicab, explaining to -the chauffeur, who looked suspiciously at his strange burden, that his -daughter had fainted in the street while they were on their way to a -little party. - -“Just drive about the streets a while until I give you further orders,” -he said, wishing to gain time to think. - -To carry Jessie in this garb and condition to any hotel, he knew, would -bring upon him a suspicion he was unwilling to face, so he racked his -brain in the endeavor to decide where to go with his charge. - -In his extremity he thought of the woman by whom the Lyndons had once -lived, and who had told him of his sister’s death and the removal -of the bereaved family to so distant a part of the city that she had -quite lost track of them. The woman was widowed and lived alone in a -poor cottage of her own, so it was the safest refuge he could find for -Jessie. - -To this kindly soul he went in his trouble, and was received with -motherly cordiality. - -Preferring not to tell her the actual truth, he satisfied her curiosity -with a plausible story, and soon had Jessie disrobed and placed in a -warm, comfortable bed. - -But though the woman who had dearly loved Jessie always called her by -every fond, endearing name, no light of recognition shone in the dazed, -dark eyes. By morning they found that she was really ill, and needed a -physician. - -“She has had a fall and perhaps injured her brain--however, I can tell -better by to-morrow,” said the man of healing. - -Acting on this clever diagnosis, his treatment of the case was so -correct that within three days the light of reason returned to Jessie’s -eyes. - -It was a fact that the fall on the pavement and striking her head had -more seriously injured Jessie than the drug she had taken, the latter -having only induced a long, deep sleep, very like its “twin brother -death.” - -Leon Dalrymple watched by her bedside with passionate devotion, feeling -that he had at last something to live for in this beautiful daughter -restored to him as from the dead. - -While she still lay ill without having recognized any one around her, -he provided the Widow Doyle with a full purse and sent her out to buy a -fine outfit. - -“We are going away on a journey, my daughter and I,” he said. “She must -have a large trunkful of good clothing suitable to a young lady of -moderate fortune--nothing gaudy or cheap, but of fine material, and of -the best make.” - -Mrs. Doyle was a woman of excellent taste, and she fitted Jessie out -well with clothing of the best style, so that when she was well enough -to sit up she could while away the hours of convalescence by admiring -her pretty, new things. - -The day came when she opened wide her beautiful eyes with the light -of reason shining in them, and saw sitting by the bed a handsome, -fair-haired man, who had about him a subtle fascination that instantly -drew her heart. - -“Who are you?” she whispered faintly. - -He turned and took her hand. - -“Have you never heard of your absent father, dear little Jessie?” - -“Yes. Are you----” - -“Yes, I am your father, dearest. Will you kiss me?” - -She held up her sweet face passively and gave him a child’s dutiful -kiss, murmuring plaintively: - -“And my mother?” - -A dark frown gloomed his brow as he retorted angrily: - -“We will never speak of her, Jessie. She is as one dead to us both.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. DALRYMPLE’S SECRET. - - -Jessie’s large, soft, dark eyes turned on her father’s face with a look -that shook his soul, they were so like other eyes he had once loved. - -She cried pleadingly: - -“No, no, for I have had such a sweet dream of my mother it thrills my -heart yet. Let me tell it to you, papa!” - -The dark eyes and the pleading voice pierced his heart like a knife. - -Why had God given her this subtle likeness to her mother that would -always be like a thorn in his heart? - -He could not answer for his tumultuous thoughts, and she continued -thrillingly: - -“Such a strange dream, papa!--sweet and strange, for I seemed to be -dead, but I felt no sorrow for it, because life had been cruel to me, -and I was glad to be at rest. Then she seemed to come and stand by my -side, the mother I had never known till an hour before my death, when -I saw her only as a proud, rich stranger. But in death she seemed to -belong to me. She knelt by me and kissed my face, my hands, my hair; -she called me Darling, and her tears rained on me while she deplored -the cruel fate that parted us in life, and restored me to her only in -death. Tell me, papa, could this be true? This proud, beautiful lady, -was she my mother?” - -He had listened in surprise and wonder, and now he said evasively: - -“It was only a dream, you know, dear.” - -“Only a dream--but I hoped it might prove a reality. I--I--loved her so -dearly in my dream because she was so sweet and tender,” faltered the -girl with tears of disappointment starting to her eyes while her father -gazed at her in secret wonder, longing to know what strange events had -preceded her supposed death. - -He could not bear to see her yearning for the mother who had been so -cruel to the father, but he did not know how to change that instinct of -love; he could only say coldly: - -“Do not think any more of your dream, child. It was very misleading.” - -“Perhaps so,” she murmured humbly, believing it must be true what he -said, for she could recall another dream that was, indeed, too subtly -sweet to be aught but illusion. - -In that strange dream a voice all too fatally dear to her heart had -murmured words of love and tenderness, vowing fealty to her in heaven: - - I love you, dearest one, all the while, - My heart is as full as it can hold, - There is place and to spare for the frank young smile, - And the red young mouth and the hair’s young gold, - So, hush, I will give you this leaf to keep, - See, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand-- - There, that is our secret! go to sleep; - You will wake, and remember and understand. - -In that lovely dream he--Frank Laurier--had pressed his lips on her -golden hair, had kissed a rose and crushed it between her folded -hands. Was it only a dream? - -Yes, how could it be aught but a dream? He who had trifled with her, -scorned her while living, how could he have changed when she lay dead? - -The tears brimmed over in her eyes as she thought: - -“How foolish I am, dwelling on such fancies. Of course, I have been -ill--not dead!--and dreamed all about these people who care naught for -me.” - -Leon Dalrymple took her hand and looked at her with tender pity. - -“My dear little one, do you feel well enough to go back with me over -the cruel past?” he asked abruptly. - -She assented eagerly, and with some evasions that he deemed necessary, -he gave her a brief résumé of his life. - -“I shall not tell you what your mother’s name was--nor mine--I call -myself Leon Lyndon now,” he said curtly, continuing: “Suffice it to say -you were born after your mother deserted me in disgust at my poverty. I -did not suspect you were coming, and, if she guessed it, she selfishly -kept the tender secret. You were born, and became the joy and pride -of her life while I hated her for having deprived me of your love. I -believe I was half mad in my troubles those days, and I contrived to -see you often unsuspected by your mother, while you were out with your -nurse. Your baby beauty and sweetness grew upon me so that at last I -stole you away, gloating over the thought that I could punish her at -last for her cruelty to me. I took you to my dear, sweet sister Jessie, -left you in her care, and became an exile from my native land. The -story of those twelve years is too long for you now, but at length the -longing for you drew me back again to New York, where I searched for -you vainly for a week before I chanced on you at last.” - -“You found me lying like one dead in the snow!” she cried, and he -started, answering evasively: - -“How came you there, my darling? I am very anxious to hear your story -up to that point.” - -To his surprise she burst into tears, sobbing unrestrainedly for -several moments. - -He waited patiently, stroking the fair head tenderly till the healing -tears ceased to flow, then, little by little, he drew her on, until the -story of her young life and her piteous little love secret lay bare -before his eyes. - -He was startled, touched, and pained; the tears were very near his eyes. - -He kissed her tenderly, pityingly. - -“It was very sad, my child, but you are so young you will soon get over -this sorrow. It was rash in you to try to throw away your life like -that, and I am very glad that I found you in your extremity and placed -you in a physician’s care, else your life must have paid the forfeit of -your desperate deed,” he said rapidly, determining in his mind that she -should never know what had happened to her that night after she fell -down in the snow and thought herself dying. - -“But life is very sad,” she murmured plaintively. “He--he--will marry -that scornful beauty, Miss Ellyson, and--and--they will laugh together -many times over me--and my broken heart.” - -The tears came again in a burning shower, but he was glad to see them -fall; he knew they would relieve her pain of wounded love and pride. - -When she grew quiet he said tenderly: - -“You must forget him, dear, as they will forget you in their happiness. -I will take you away from New York, where you shall never meet those -cruel hearts again.” - -“I should like to go--I should like to forget!” she sighed, and his -heart throbbed with divine sympathy, for he knew well all the anguish -of her plaint. - - Do I remember? Ask me not again! - My soul has but one passion--to forget! - Oh, is there nothing in the world then - To take away the soul’s divine regret? - Alas, for love is evermore divine, - Immortal is the sorrow love must bring, - The buried jewel seeketh yet to shine, - And music’s spirit haunts the idle string, - So doth the heart in sadness ever twine, - Some fading wreath that keeps hope lingering. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. LAURIER’S ATONEMENT. - - -When two people are of the same mind that certain subjects are painful, -they are not apt to recall them to each other’s memory. - -Leon Lyndon, as he chose to call himself, left New York within the -week with his strangely recovered daughter, and in new pursuits and -pleasures both sought oblivion of the painful past. - -Lyndon had become rich while at the gold fields, and he spared no -expense on Jessie. - -Finding that in her restless mood she enjoyed travel more than anything -else, they spent six months wandering over their native land, enjoying -its beauties and grandeur, unsurpassed by any other country in the -world. - -Then they crossed the ocean and resumed their migratory habits. - -Another six months were spent in this way, then a weariness fell on -both and they longed for rest. - -The father decided to settle in Germany for a year and cultivate his -daughter’s mind. - -He had already discovered to his delight that she had inherited his -great talent for music, together with a voice of rare power and melody. - -Securing the best teachers that money could procure, they spent -eighteen quiet months in the polishing of Jessie’s mind, and father and -daughter became passionately attached to each other, finding in this -warm affection some balm for past sorrow. - -Meanwhile, Lyndon had kept from his daughter one fact that she would -doubtless have found very interesting--the story of the accident that -had prevented the marriage of Frank Laurier at the appointed time. - -He had read in the next day’s papers the story of the interrupted -marriage--the bride’s long wait at the church, the mysterious failure -of the bridegroom to arrive, the bride’s mortification and her return -home--then the solution of the mystery in the accident that had -befallen Laurier, nearly costing him his life, as it was stated that he -was lingering between life and death with concussion of the brain. - -Leon Lyndon immediately comprehended that he had been the cause of the -trouble by running into Laurier with his wheel, and though it had been -unavoidable, he felt a keen remorse and regret for his part in the -tragedy, although he owed the victim no sympathy, seeing what grief he -had brought upon his daughter. - -These facts Lyndon thought it prudent to conceal from Jessie, supposing -that the marriage would take place anyhow, as soon as the condition of -the bridegroom improved, so the name was tacitly dropped between them, -and after they left New York remained unspoken, if unforgotten. - -Meanwhile, matters were quite different in New York from what either he -or Jessie could have supposed. - -Laurier, after his accident, had remained for several days in a serious -condition, recovering consciousness so slightly as not to be able -to recognize the friends who were permitted to visit him. Having no -relatives in the city, his dearest friend, Ernest Noel, was often by -his bedside, and it was quite a week before the latter dared answer the -half-dazed questions put to him by the sick man. - -Then full consciousness dawned, and all the cruel truth came upon him. - -The funeral, the accident, the interrupted wedding, all dawned on his -mind, and a hollow groan burst from him as he turned his eyes on Noel. - -“Cora----” - -Noel read the pained questioning in the one word. The stricken -bridegroom was thinking of Cora and the cruel ordeal she had been -called on to bear, the interrupted wedding, the gossip, the nine days’ -wonder. - -“She is well,” Noel said encouragingly. - -“Tell me all about that day,” Laurier pleaded faintly, and his friend -obeyed with some evasions. - -Not for worlds would he have betrayed the whispers he had heard of the -proud bride’s fury at her lover on that cruel wedding day when she had -turned away from the altar, a bride without a bridegroom, a stricken -creature who in her wrath hated the whole world, and felt revengeful -enough to have plunged a knife into the heart of the man who had -disappointed her and made her the sensation of an hour. - -He glossed that fact over very lightly by saying: - -“Miss Ellyson was naturally cruelly wounded, believing herself a jilted -bride.” - -“My proud, beautiful Cora, it was indeed a most cruel ordeal, and -I would have died to spare her such pain. Are you quite sure she -understands everything now, Noel?” - -“Yes; I went and told her myself how everything fell out, and it was -fully explained in the newspapers of the next day--so every one knows -now that it was an untoward accident that prevented the wedding, and -that it will take place as soon as you are recovered.” - -“And Cora exonerates me from blame?” - -“Ye-es,” hesitatingly. - -“You are keeping back something, Noel? Speak out.” - -“Well, then, she was rather vexed over your attending Miss Dalrymple’s -funeral. You see, Laurier, it was that which really caused our deuced -hurry, that upset everything.” - -“I never intended Cora should know I went to that funeral.” - -“You may be sure I did not tell her, for I thought strange of your -doing it myself, but some dunce saw you there, blurted it out to Van -Dorn, and he told Miss Ellyson. See?” - -“Oh, yes,” and for a few moments Laurier remained silent, his thoughts -divided between the dead girl and the living one--the one he had -wounded unto death, the one who was to be his bride. - -He gave a long, long sigh to Jessie’s memory, then a chivalrous thought -to Cora. - -“Poor girl, how cruelly she must have suffered in the terrible suspense -of that hour. I must make it up to her, Noel, as soon as I can. Perhaps -it would please her to be married now before I get well.” - -“Now? Here?”--in surprise. - -“Yes; why not? Loving each other so well, what does the time and place -matter if it is a true union of hearts? It would stop silly gossip -over the interrupted wedding, and such a proof of my tenderness would -perhaps condone my offense in showing respect to Mrs. Dalrymple by -attending her daughter’s obsequies.” - -There was a slight touch of bitterness in the last words that Noel did -not understand, and he said, in his brusque way: - -“Not many girls would care to be married by a sick bed and sacrifice -all the fol-lalas of a brilliant wedding.” - -“But Cora would because she loves me very fondly. Will you go and see -her for me, Noel, and ask her if she would be willing to marry me -to-morrow, so that we can start on our wedding tour as soon as I am -well enough?” - -Noel went, and the patient, tired by his long talk, dozed again, and -filled up the interval of time this way till his friend’s return. - -He wakened at last with a start at a light touch on his arm. - -“Ah, Noel, is that you? Where have you been so long? Ah, I remember -now! You saw Cora? She will grant my wish?” - -“You are mistaken, old boy. She--refuses!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. THE NEW WINE OF LOVE. - - -Cora Ellyson had, indeed, refused her lover’s request. - -Ernest Noel had gauged her quite correctly in asserting that she would -be unwilling to be married simply, without the pomp and ceremony so -dear to the feminine mind. - -And, besides, though pained over her lover’s accident, she could not -forgive in her heart the first cause of it. - -She argued to herself that if he had not gone to the funeral he would -not have been forced to the haste that had resulted so disastrously to -himself and caused her so cruel a mortification. - -“Whoever heard of anything so outré as a man’s going to a funeral in -his wedding suit, and on the eve of his marriage?” - -She cried to herself in a passion of jealous anger, hating poor Jessie -for the sympathy he had shown and the few thoughts she had taken from -the proud bride who had claimed all. - -Despite her love for him, Cora longed to punish her lover for his -fealty to Jessie’s memory. - -She did not consider that he had already suffered enough. She desired -his punishment to come through her, the chosen of his heart. - -If any one had told her that the fire of his love that had burned -so fiercely until that day in the park had cooled down into an -indifference that he would not own even to his own heart, she could not -have believed it. - -They had had their lovers’ quarrels before, flirted with others before, -kissed and made up always. She expected things to go as usual. - -She had not punished him enough yet, and the refusal to marry him on -his sick bed was a stroke that secretly pleased her very much. It would -cause him such cruel pain he would realize her value more. - -She even declined to visit him while he lay ill at the hospital on the -plea that her nerves could not bear the shock. - -“Tell him to get well as soon as possible, so that my wedding gown will -not get out of fashion,” was the gay message sent by Mrs. van Dorn, who -with Mrs. Dalrymple went to call on the invalid. - -Perhaps it was the sight of the bereaved mother in her deep mourning -that put the thought of Jessie in his mind--perhaps she had never been -out of it since that tragic night. Anyhow, he received Cora’s messages -with apparent resignation, and in the long days of convalescence, while -she thought he was yearning for her with ceaseless impatience, his -thoughts kept wandering to the dead girl, living over in memory their -brief acquaintance--the first time he had seen her and been startled by -her naïve, girlish beauty, the struggle with Doyle when he had rescued -her from the villain’s rude advances, the drive to the park, and--the -fatal kiss! - -Whenever Laurier recalled that sweet, clinging kiss he had taken from -Jessie’s red, flowerlike lips, his heart would beat wildly in his -breast, and the warm color flush up to his brow. - -The garbled story of a glass of wine too much that he had told to -Jessie in excusing himself, was quite untrue. He had not taken any -wine; it was a bewildering flash-up of emotion that had throbbed at his -heart and made him yield to the temptation to press her sweet lips with -his own. - -It was true that the influence of Cora still remained so strong that he -had soon turned from the girl to watch the passing throngs for his old -love that he might note the jealous flash of her great eyes at sight -of an apparent rival--afterward when suffering from the effects of his -accident in the park, and exposed to the tender witcheries of Cora, it -had been easy to win him back. - -But the events of that night, when Jessie had come to Mrs. -Dalrymple’s--her love, her humiliation, her despair, coupled with -Cora’s heartless behavior, were impressed ineffaceably on his heart. -The one had inspired pity and sympathy, the other deep disgust. - -“Pity is akin to love,” and now that Jessie was dead Laurier knew that, -had she lived, he could have loved her as well--aye, better--than he -had ever loved proud, jealous Cora, who looked on him as a sort of -slave to her caprices, to be scolded and sent away, then whistled back -at will. - -Had Jessie lived, he would have bidden this tenderness back, knowing -that his fealty belonged to his betrothed, but it did not matter now if -he gave Jessie some tender regrets in the few days that must elapse -before he married Cora and pledged to her irrevocably the devotion of -his heart. - -In the meantime, new influences were at work to sunder more widely the -two hearts already chilled by jealousy and anger. - -Ernest Noel, having always admired beautiful Cora at a distance, -was now brought into more intimate relations with her by the errand -on which he had gone for Laurier, and the young girl, not averse to -a little flirtation to relieve the tedium of waiting her lover’s -recovery, smilingly encouraged his frank advances. - -It became the customary thing to call every evening and report -Laurier’s progress on the road to recovery to his fair betrothed. - -No secret was made of these calls to Laurier, who each morning received -an enthusiastic description of how Cora had looked and acted and the -flippant messages she had sent her lover. - -Believing that she was arousing Laurier’s jealousy, as she had often -done before, and thus increasing the fervor of his love, she rested -secure, though secretly burning with anxiety to see him again, and only -deterred from a visit to him by the rooted determination to pay him out -for his fault, as she called it, to herself. - -Beautiful, vindictive, jealous, she was capable of savage fury when -aroused, but in indulging her fierce resentment she was running a risk -she little dreamed. - -Laurier, getting an insight into the flirtation, did not feel the least -disturbed, but was startled at himself when he detected a latent wish -that she would transfer her affections to Noel. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. WOULD THE OLD LOVE RETURN? - - -December snows lay deep upon the ground when Laurier left the hospital -two weeks after the fateful accident that had postponed his wedding. - -His first visit was to Cora. - -Having punished him as she deemed sufficiently, she was passionately -glad to see him again. - -The fond arms twined about his neck, the dark head nestled against -his breast, the dewy red lips were upturned to meet his own, but as -he pressed them he remembered other lips, oh, so warm and sweet and -clinging, now pale and cold in death. - - Ah, pale, pale, now those rosy lips - That once I kissed so fondly, - And closed for aye the sparkling glance - That dwelt on me so kindly. - And moldering now in silent dust - The heart that loved me dearly, - But still within my bosom’s care - Shall live my Highland Mary! - -Was it Laurier’s punishment for his sin that Jessie should haunt him -so, that her pale wraith should glide between him and his living love, -and make his lips cold to her kiss and his heart chill to her tender -embrace! - -Time was when his blood had run like fire with those arms about his -neck, and that dark head on his breast, but how strangely all was -altered now, and what a deep depression hung over him, though he tried -to hide it from those searching, dark eyes, and to outdo her in the -warmth of his greeting. - -“Dear Frank, how pale and ill you look! And--and--you do not kiss me as -of old. Are you vexed with me because I would not consent to a sick-bed -wedding?” archly. - -“No, no, dear; why should I be? It was better to wait and have a public -wedding so as to display your lovely bridal gown, of course,” he -answered, forcing a smile. - -“And you were not impatient?” - -“I was too ill for that, you know.” - -“Poor Frank! How you must have suffered! I hope you were not vexed -that I did not come to see you. But they told me you were looking so -frightfully ill I had not the heart lest I should scold you, for, after -all, everything was your own fault, you know, going to that girl’s -funeral.” - -“Do not let us bring that subject up again, Cora. I only did what I -thought was my duty.” - -“Duty! That kept you from your own wedding!” she cried reproachfully. -“Only for that we should be married now.” - -“We can be married to-morrow if you are willing, Cora.” - -“Nonsense! How could we? All the arrangements will have to be made over -again. And my maid of honor is out of town--gone South for a month.” - -“You can choose another!” - -“But she made me promise to wait her return!” - -“I do not think that is at all necessary. Choose some other girl and -let us have the agony over!” abstractedly. - -“The agony! Sir?” and Cora Ellyson almost transfixed him with the -indignant flash of her great, dark eyes. - -He started, realizing he had made a blunder. - -“Dear Cora, I beg your pardon, I did not mean to wound you. Do you not -understand my impatient mood? That it is agony to me, this waiting to -call you mine,” anxiously. - -“Dear Frank, was that what you meant? I thought for a moment -that--that--but, no, it would be impossible you should look on our -marriage as a bore!” - -“Impossible!” he echoed fervently, but in the bottom of his heart he -was terribly distressed at his own indifference, he who had once loved -Cora to madness. - -He would not have had her find out the cruel truth for the world. He -played his part as a true lover still with amiable deceit, thinking -anxiously: - -“This is but a caprice of illness. Love will come back.” - -Alas! - - Would Love his ruined quarters recognize - Where shrouded pictures of the past remain, - And gently turn them with forgiving eyes - If Love should come again? - -Cora was charmed with the belief in his anxiety for the wedding. She -thought that absence had, indeed, taught him her value. With pretty -coquetry she pretended coyness in naming another wedding day just to -make him plead for haste. - -Understanding what was expected of him, he continued to insist, until -she named a day just two weeks distant. - -“And it shall be a home wedding this time. I could not bear to go to -church again after--that day! Oh, I knew it was ill-fated when we met -that horrible funeral! I wish I had turned back then and so escaped -the next cruel hour--the waiting, the anxiety, the curious faces, some -sympathetic, some sarcastic--the sinking at the heart, the bitter -resentment, believing myself jilted at the altar! Ah, Frank, there are -times when I feel as if I can never forgive you for the humiliation of -that hour!” cried Cora, in passionate excitement. - -He took her burning hands and kissed them fondly, crying: - -“I will make it all up to you, my darling, when I am your husband, by -the most patient devotion!” - -And as he gazed at the dark, brilliant face that had once charmed him -so, he told himself that surely the old love would come back as soon as -that painful, lingering remorse over Jessie should fade from his mind. - -Who could help loving beautiful Cora, even in spite of the glimpses -he had had of cruel depths in her mind? He would try to forget how -heartlessly she had acted to her hapless little rival and love her -again in spite of all. - -He knew that scores of men envied him the prize he had won in the -promise of her hand; even Ernest Noel, his best man, scarcely disguised -the fact that he had fallen a victim to her witcheries, and frankly -envied his friend, so he was not surprised on going out to meet Noel -coming up the steps to call on Cora, as had now become his daily habit. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. PLAYING WITH FIRE. - - -The young men nodded gayly at each other, then Ernest Noel passed into -the house. - -“How radiant you look, ma belle!” he exclaimed enviously. - -Cora’s red lips parted over her pearly teeth in an enchanting smile of -joy, as she answered: - -“Frank has just gone, and we were naming the wedding day again.” - -She knew well that the announcement would pierce his heart like a -sword, for only yesterday Ernest had proved unfaithful to his friend -and pleaded for her love. - -Beautiful Cora had laughed at her passionate suitor, enraging him with -her scorn. - -“You led me on, encouraged me to love you, and hope for a return!” he -cried sullenly. - -“Nonsense! You knew I was engaged to Frank all the time!” she cried. - -“Yet you pretend indifference to him, refused to marry him on what -might have been his deathbed, and, besides, I had heard it whispered -that you were so angry on your wedding day you had vowed vengeance on -your recreant bridegroom. Is not all this true, Cora?” - -“I deny your right to question me. I shall marry Frank when he gets -well,” she cried, with her most imperious air. - -“My God, then you were only coquetting with me to pass the time--is it -true?” - -“I was kind to you because you were Frank’s friend--that is all--and -you are very wicked to try to steal me from him,” she cried defiantly. - -“You were playing with fire,” he muttered, and turned and went away -with a strange smile glooming his dark, strong face. - -To-day he wore a careless smile, and did not flinch when she told him -so triumphantly that she had just named the wedding day again. - -“Is it so, indeed? Then you will soon be lost to me forever!” he cried -lightly, adding: “I must steal every hour I can from my fortunate rival -until the fatal day. The crust of the snow is hard, and my sleigh is at -the door. Will you come with me for a ride?” - -“Yes, I will go,” she answered kindly. - -Warmly wrapped in sealskin, she followed him out to the natty little -sleigh, careless in her happiness of the gloomy day and lowering storm -clouds, little dreaming of what was coming. - -He tucked the warm robes cozily about her, took up the reins, and they -set off at a spanking pace, gliding gayly over the smooth crust of snow -until they found themselves leaving the crowded city behind. - -They had talked but little, but now Noel slackened rein, and said -suddenly: - -“So you really love Laurier after all?” - -“Of course--when I am to marry him in two weeks!” - -“Yet a week ago I could have sworn that you did not care for him.” - -“Appearances are deceitful.” - -“Yes, very,” he replied, with a low, bitter laugh, adding: “For I could -almost have sworn that your heart had turned from him to me!” - -“What egregious vanity!” cried Cora, laughing outright. - -The laugh almost drove him mad. Striking the black, fiery horse lightly -with the whip so that it dashed quickly forward again, he almost hissed: - -“What would you do to any one who should come between you and Laurier?” - -The girl’s eyes flashed, she ground her white teeth together viciously, -crying: - -“I should hate them, I should want to murder them!” - -Noel’s face grew livid, but he looked around at her fixedly, crying: - -“Then you will want to murder me, for I am a barrier between you and -Laurier that cannot be removed. I am your lawful husband, beautiful -Cora!” - -“You are mad!” she cried, in alarm. “Let us turn back instantly. See, -the snow is beginning to fall!” - -Without heeding her command, Ernest Noel drove on through the gathering -storm, replying hoarsely: - -“I am not mad, Cora, I am telling you the truth. Do you remember the -private theatricals we took part in last week for the benefit of that -little church? You were the bride, I was the bridegroom, and it was -a lawful marriage, for I made private arrangements to have it so, -securing a license and a minister. You are my wife as fast as the law -can make you. Now, what have you to say?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. A DESPERATE DEED. - - -Cora Ellyson sat speechless by the side of Ernest Noel for several -minutes as the sleigh rushed on through the whirling snowflakes. - -Her face was as white as the snowflakes, her very lips pale, and her -eyes flashed with a dangerous anger that startled her desperate lover. -In their dark gleam he read, indeed, a murderous hate too deep for -words--a hate that could kill, so great was its fury. Choking with -grief and rage, she remained speechless, though her writhing lips -struggled for words. A despair too deep for utterance possessed her -soul. - -What, wedded to this villain! Tricked into a ceremony that bound her -to him and cut her off from Frank, her beloved, forever! It was too -horrible! She could not believe it! - -“Is it really true? You have not lied to me?” gaspingly. - -“It is true as Heaven, Cora. Say what you will, you are my wife, and as -such I claim you! Come, give me a kiss, and let us make up our quarrel!” - -Throwing his arm around her waist he drew her forcibly to his side, -pressing hot kisses on the shrinking face, while her shrieks rang -wildly on the air--wildly, but unheeded, for they were in the country -now on a lonely, unfrequented road, and the darkness of the wintry -afternoon, together with the whirling snowflakes, made everything dim -and indistinct. - -A very frenzy of rage possessed the wretched girl. She had said rightly -that she could murder any one who came between her and Laurier. - -As she struggled wildly with Noel, she flung one hand up to her hair, -whose dark, silken braids were pierced through with a strong but -slender silver dagger with a jeweled hilt. Withdrawing it dexterously, -she made a lunge at his breast. - -With a stifled oath he warded off the first blow, catching the point -of the dagger in his own hand so that it pierced through, the blood -spouting out in a fountain of crimson, but, withdrawing it quickly, she -aimed again for his heart. - -“My God!” shrilled in agony from his lips as his arm fell, and the -reins dropped from his hands while he sank an inert mass at the bottom -of the sleigh. The next moment the black horse, frightened by her -shrieks, had the bit between his teeth and was running away, while -Cora, crouched in the seat wild-eyed, pale-faced, an image of horror, -resigned herself to inevitable death. - -On over the frozen snow, through the whirling storm, he ran for over a -mile, then--stumbling over some obstruction in the road, he came to a -sudden stop, and the little sleigh overturned, throwing its occupants -out into the drifted snow. - -One breathless moment and Cora scrambled to her feet unhurt, but not so -the companion of her wild drive. - -Silent and pallid, a senseless heap with the blood staining his white -shirt bosom and his wounded hand, Ernest Noel lay like one dead in the -snow. - -“I have killed him!” the girl muttered wildly, but so terrible was her -resentment that she felt no remorse for her deed, only a fierce joy -that he was out of her way. - -“He deserved it all!” she muttered, casting her glance hurriedly around -to see if there was any witness to her crime. - -But she was all alone with nature--nature in her stormiest mood, the -wind shrieking in a rising gale, blowing the snow across the fields, -bending and twisting the bare boughs of the trees, while the drifts -were piled high against the rough stones of an old lime quarry close to -the side of the road. - -In that lonely scene the desperate girl stood wild-eyed, breathless, -still burning with rage that precluded all remorse. - -“If I could only hide him, if only the snowdrifts would cover him from -my sight forever!” she exclaimed, and then her glance fell on the old -quarry and lighted with intelligence. - -“I can throw him down there!” she muttered, and with a strength born of -terror, dragged the inert body by the arms, and pushed it down into the -pit. - -It fell with a hollow thud that made the panting girl, listening above, -shudder violently, and fly back to the sleigh. - -The black horse, seemingly subdued by its wild race and with the sweat -streaming from every pore, despite the biting wind, stood patiently -waiting her pleasure as she nervously returned and caught up the reins -preparing for the inclement drive home. - -A voice struck on her ears, sending terror to her heart lest the dead -had arisen from his grave in the deserted pit. - -“I’ll drive you home, Miss Ellyson!” - -Who was this, calling her boldly by name? With a start of terror, she -lifted her eyes, and saw a man striding to her through the snow. - -She had seen the bold eyes, the coarse, good-looking face before. It -was Carey Doyle. - -“How came you here?” she faltered fearfully, and he answered coolly: - -“I was cutting across fields visiting some country friends of mine when -I saw you upset, and hastened to your assistance. Who was the man you -pushed over into the pit, Miss Ellyson? Surely not Frank Laurier?” - -Her heart sank with wild alarm as she answered faintly: - -“You--you--are mistaken. I--I--came--here alone, I swear. I was -only--only--looking down into the pit thinking how terrible if the -sleigh had overset down there!” - -“Miss Ellyson, I saw you dragging the man over there by his arms--don’t -deny it,” Doyle returned masterfully. - -She was detected, she realized it, and began to sob hysterically: - -“Oh, for sweet pity’s sake do not betray me! He--he--was killed when -the sleigh upset--and I--I--did not know what to do! I thought I would -leave him there. How could I drive home with a dead man!” shudderingly. - -“What was his name?” - -“I will not tell you!” wildly. - -“Miss Ellyson, there is blood on your hands and your dress. Is it -possible you have done murder?” Carey Doyle demanded, with sudden -sternness. - -“No, no, it was an accident! He--he--would have mistreated me, and -I--I--defended myself with the hairpin! It wounded him, and then -the fall killed him! I--I--oh, sir, I cannot bear the sensation of -discovery. I will make you rich if you will keep this terrible secret!” -pleaded Cora, kneeling down abjectly in the snow before the exultant -wretch glorying in the discovery he had made. - -Rather than put herself in the power of this bad man Cora had better -have put the dead man back into the sleigh and driven back to the city -with a full confession of her sin. Surely no jury would have convicted -her of murder when they heard how she had been goaded by cruel wrong -into a terrible deed. They would all agree that she had been driven -temporarily insane by her fear and suffering. - -But her poor brain was too distraught to think clearly. A horrible fear -possessed her lest the deed become known, and she should fall into the -hands of the law. - -She knelt down in the cold snow with the biting wind cutting her white -face and blowing her dark, loosened hair about her, her small hands -clasped, pleading, praying: - -“Oh, sir, do not betray me! I could not bear detection! What will you -take to keep my wretched secret?” - -His eyes gleamed with cupidity as he answered: - -“You are rich, so I don’t think you would mind a thousand dollars, -would you?” - -“You shall have it!” - -“Then my lips are sealed. Get in and let me drive you home, Miss -Ellyson. Then I must manage to have the horse and sleigh returned to -the stables without exciting suspicion, so you will have to confide in -me, don’t you see, so that I can help you better,” shrewdly. - -Oh, how it galled her pride to take him into her confidence, but there -was no other way, so she said evasively: - -“He was Ernest Noel, who fell in love with me and tried to supplant Mr. -Laurier in my heart. On this drive he took the liberty of kissing me, -and in defending myself I gave him a fatal blow.” - -He helped her in and took her home, afterward returning the sleigh to -the stables in a way that diverted all suspicion. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. - - -Two weeks rolled around very quickly and brought Cora’s wedding day -again. - -It would be somewhat different from the one that had been so tragically -interrupted the month before. - -This would be a home wedding at Mrs. van Dorn’s, where Cora was still -staying. - -And she had chosen another maid of honor, because the first one was -still absent in the South. - -Laurier also would have to select another friend for his best man, as -Ernest Noel had mysteriously disappeared. - -No one had seen him since the afternoon when he had taken Miss Ellyson -sleigh riding, and it was currently believed that the young man had -committed suicide. - -Cora had lent color to this report by frankly owning that Noel had -perfidiously sought to win her from Laurier, and in the madness of -disappointment threatened to take his own life. - -She told glibly of their long sleigh ride, in which they had been -caught in the snowstorm and lost their way, not returning until after -nightfall. - -She grew pale and grave when she told how Noel had pleaded for her -love in passionate phrases, and how angry he had grown when she had -upbraided him for his treachery to his friend. - -“All is fair in love or war,” he had replied doggedly, and turned a -deaf ear to her pleadings that he would turn back from the storm that -was gathering. - -“I shall drive on and on if it be to perdition until you take pity on -me!” he had vowed grimly, but her fright and tears had moved him at -last to bring her back home. - -With her hand close clasped in Laurier’s, Cora had repeated her story, -ending sadly: - -“I was very angry with the poor fellow, yet I pitied him, too; he was -so tragically in earnest, and I shall never forget him as I saw him -last when he left me at the door. His face was pale as death, and his -eyes glared wildly under the electric lights as he took my hand in his -and kissed it, murmuring tragically: - -“You will never see me again, for I cannot bear my life without your -love! I shall end it to-night, and when you hear of my death you will -know I did it for your sake, and may the thought of it prove a thorn in -the roses of your happiness!” - -Cora’s voice sank to a low, sobbing cadence as she added: - -“He looked wild enough to do any rash deed, but I did not believe him, -I thought he was only trying to frighten me. I said good night quickly, -and ran into the house, for I was almost frozen, and scared half to -death from our interview.” - -“Poor Cora--poor Noel! It was very distressing to you both, I know, and -I fear he really carried out his threat, for nothing has been heard of -him yet, and his relatives are getting very anxious,” said Laurier -gravely, almost wishing in his heart that Cora had taken pity on Noel’s -love and accepted him. - -He knew well that she had coquetted with the young man and led him on -to his madness--he had seen it all along while he lay ill--but it was -useless to tax her with the wrong, he could only think bitterly: - -“Why will women break hearts for pastime?” - -But following the thought, a pale, reproachful face seemed to rise -before him, and lips that he had kissed for the whim of a moment--red, -rosy lips--seemed to murmur: - -“What of men?” - -So he could not reproach Cora; he was not without fault himself. - -The days passed quickly with no tidings of Noel, and the twenty-second -of December came--his wedding day! - -Oh, with what joy he had looked forward to it once! The day that should -give him proud, beautiful Cora for his own! - -He had loved her madly for a little while, but all his efforts could -not bring back the passion now. It was cold and dead, and his heart lay -like a stone in his breast. - -They had decided to go South on a bridal tour, both having crossed -the ocean several times, so that there would have been no novelty in -the trip. Everything was in readiness for the journey as soon as the -wedding reception was over. - -Why was it that he could look forward so indifferently to the -tête-à-tête journey with the stately bride for whose sake he was -bitterly envied by other men? Did a dead hand, small and white and -warning--rise between him and his bride, barring out happiness? - -It almost seemed so. - - Would to God I could awaken! - For I dream I know not how, - And my soul is sorely shaken - Lest an evil step be taken, - Lest the dead who is forsaken - May not be happy now. - -He would not listen to the haunting voices throbbing at his heart, but, -putting them aside, prepared to keep his troth plight, praying yet for -love to come back to its forsaken nest in his heart. - -Not so with beautiful Cora, who, beaming with joyous anticipations, was -making ready for her bridal, smiling as the maid pinned on the bridal -veil, thinking there could be no bar to her happiness now, for was not -Frank waiting for her downstairs, and everything in readiness! - -“Oh, Miss Cora, how magnificent you look! May I let them all see you -now?” cried the exultant maid. - -“Yes, I am ready to go downstairs now, and it is time, is it not?” -tilting back the long pier glass for another admiring view at herself -in the glory of her white brocade train and point-lace veil. - -Fifine stepped to the door and called Mrs. van Dorn and the others who -were waiting, but as they crossed the threshold, loud, piercing shrieks -rang through the room, and a horrible sight met their eyes. - -In stepping back for a better view of herself, Cora had thoughtlessly -brushed against a cluster of wax lights burning in a silver candelabra -on her dressing table. In an instant the flames caught the filmy folds -of her veil and ignited it, wrapping her quickly in leaping flames like -so many writhing serpents. - -Never had there been a more tragic interruption to a wedding. - -The splendid mansion so gayly decorated for the occasion, instantly -became a scene of dismay and confusion. - -The shrieks of the frightened women upstairs brought the bridegroom and -guests rushing to their aid, and it was Frank Laurier himself who first -had the presence of mind to tear the burning garments from Cora, though -at the cost of painful injuries to himself. - -But he scarcely gave a thought to that, so keen was his pity for the -poor wreck of what had been but five minutes ago a beautiful, radiant -young girl, with her heart full of love and pride going to the altar -with her handsome lover. - -Cora’s injuries were so severe that her blackened, swollen features -were quite unrecognizable. The bridal gown was reduced to a charred, -black mass, and there was not a vestige left of the costly point-lace -veil. - -For long weeks she hovered between life and death, and no one supposed -she could ever recover. Indeed, her best friends thought it might be -better to die than to live with all her radiant beauty gone. All her -beautiful hair, her eyebrows and lashes were burned away, and her once -lovely skin was scarred and red. The great, flashing, dark eyes were -dim and sunken. - -When after long weeks she began to convalesce to the surprise of all -her doctors, people said that she ought to release Frank Laurier from -his engagement. No man would be willing to marry such a fright. - -But Cora was not so magnanimous. She sent word to her lover to be true -to her, and she would marry him as soon as she was quite well again. - -Then she consulted the most eminent physicians and dermatologists in -the city about the restoration of her beauty. - -She was wild with anguish over her disfigurements, and declared that -she would sacrifice her whole fortune to regain what she had lost by -the terrible accident. - -She put herself in their hands and they promised to do their best, -but the process would be slow--she must give up the world for a year, -perhaps, ere success could crown their efforts. She agreed to this and -refused to see her lover until her lost beauty should be restored. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. “LOVE, I WILL LOVE YOU EVER!” - - -Among the passengers on a steamer homeward bound from England to -America were a man and his daughter who attracted much admiring -attention from all the other passengers. - -The man was Leon Lyndon, and he was returning with his daughter -Jessie after nearly two years’ absence from New York. Lyndon, tall, -fair, middle-aged, with a most serious expression, did not cultivate -acquaintances, but rather repelled advances, preferring to devote -himself to his beautiful daughter, who in turn gave him all her -attention. - -It was most provoking to all the young men, who were simply wild to -know the dainty beauty, and to tempt her to flirtations on the deck -these balmy September evenings when the sea shone like silver and the -full moon rode in gleaming majesty through the pathless blue sky. - -It was too bad, they said, for her father to monopolize her always, -hanging around her chair with books that they read together all day, -and in the evenings strumming on his mandolin while she warbled tender -love songs in a voice so sweet that the very winds and waves seemed to -hush themselves to listen. - -Curiosity was rife concerning the attractive pair, but no one could -satisfy it, and when they had been three days out no one had secured -anything but a bowing acquaintance with either. - -It was about this time that a young man who had been confined to his -stateroom all these days by sea-sickness now made his appearance on -deck. - -It was no less a person than Frank Laurier, who had been abroad almost -a year, and was returning at the summons of his betrothed. - -It was almost two years since Cora’s terrible accident had so abruptly -interrupted their wedding, and never, since the first hour, had he been -permitted to gaze on her face. - -The restoration of her health and beauty had consumed many months, -and though he had entreated to see her, the request had always been -sorrowfully denied. - -Cora’s heart ached for the sight of his face and the touch of his hand, -but she dared not risk the shock he must have experienced at sight of -her poor, marred face. Still believing in his love that had ceased to -exist, she feared his disenchantment. - -Afraid of the weakness of her own will, anxious to place herself out of -temptation, she entreated him to go abroad while she was in the hands -of the doctors, to remain until she summoned him with the glad news -that they might meet again to part no more forever. - -He had been absent almost a year now, and they had corresponded in a -desultory fashion, when suddenly he received the letter of recall, -telling him she was well and beautiful again, and he must return, -because her heart was breaking to see him once more. - -Laurier’s heart was touched by her faithful love, and he reproached -himself for the way he had neglected her letters, often not answering -them for weeks, almost forgetting her existence in the indifference -that had stolen over him and made him wish in secret that something -would happen to break the irksome bond that fettered his changed heart. - -Many a man would not have hesitated to own that he had ceased to love, -and claimed his freedom from her hands, but not so Laurier, who prided -himself on his honor, and pitied Cora too sincerely to wound her loving -heart. - - Doubt’s cruel whisper shall not break the spell, - Oh, thou whom to deceive is to befriend; - All shall be well with thee until the end, - Until the end believing all is well! - -He was going home to marry her and make her as happy as he could. For -himself it did not matter greatly. Even if his heart was cold to her, -she had at least no living rival, and that must suffice. - -That evening when he came on deck--the young men had persuaded -him--begging him to come and listen to the sweet voice singing in the -moonlight, the voice of a girl as lovely as an angel, but with such a -selfish, cruel papa that he would not permit any of them to approach -within arm’s length. - -“I wish you would storm the citadel of her heart, Laurier, and avenge -us!” laughed one. - -“You forget that I am going home to be married!” he replied gravely. - -“Oh, a little flirtation beforehand need not matter.” - -“I beg your pardon. A young girl’s love is too sacred to be trifled -with. I will go on deck and listen because I adore singing, but I shall -not try to make the young lady’s acquaintance.” - -So in the silvery moonlight of that balmy September evening he went on -deck with his friends, and saw, sitting apart, the man lightly touching -the strings of a mandolin, while by his side stood his daughter, a -slender, classically gowned girl in a simple robe of warm, white -cashmere falling in straight folds, her pure, lovely face crowned with -golden hair, lifted to the sky while she sang in notes of liquid melody: - - “Last night the nightingale woke me, - Last night when all was still, - It sang in the golden moonlight - From out the wooded hill. - I opened my window so gently, - I looked on the dreaming dew, - And, oh, the bird, my darling, - Was singing of you, of you! - - “I think of you in the daytime, - I dream of you by night, - I wake, and would you were here, love, - And tears are blinding my sight. - I hear a low breath in the lime tree, - The wind is floating through, - And, oh, the night, my darling, - Is sighing, sighing, for you! - - “Oh, think not I can forget you, - I could not though I would, - I see you in all around me - The stream, the night, the wood. - The flowers that slumber so gently, - The stars above the blue, - Oh, heaven itself, my darling, - Is praying, praying, for you!” - -Frank Laurier stood apart, looking and listening spellbound, while -something sweet and tender to the verge of pain stabbed his heart. - -What was there in the pure, uplifted face and in the sweet, sad voice -that seemed to strike a mournful chord in memory like some familiar -strain? He had never heard the song before, and surely never seen the -exquisite face, else it had never been forgotten. - -He said to himself that she had only made him think of love again--love -that had grown a stranger to his heart, though once as sweet and -welcome as the song she sang. - -She rested a few moments, without observing her rapt listeners, then -the sweet voice rose again, following the chords of the mandolin: - - “Beneath the trees together - They wandered hand in hand, - Oh, it was summer weather, - And Love was in the land; - Their hearts were light, - The sun shone bright, - And as they went along, - With voices sweetly mingled, - They sang the old, old song: - - “Love, I will love you ever, - Love, I will leave you never, - Ever to me precious to be. - Never to part, heart bound to heart! - Ever am I, never to say good-by! - - “Beneath the trees together - They went along apart, - Oh, it was autumn weather, - And heart had turned from heart, - Across the wold the air came cold, - The mists rose dull and gray, - And in their ears, like a mocking voice, - They heard the well-known lay: - - “Yet still while o’er the heather - They go their way alone, - Oh, it is wintry weather, - And all the summer’s gone! - They hear the air they love the most - Upon their fancy fall; - ’Tis better to have loved and lost - Than not have loved at all.” - -The sweet voice was inexpressibly pathetic. Laurier felt a lump rise in -his throat and a moisture in his eyes. He longed to clasp the singer in -his arms and soothe her tender grief. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. AN ANSWERED PRAYER. - - -The sweet voice died away in lingering echoes over the waters, the -mandolin ceased its plaintive chords, and Jessie sat down with a low -sigh by her father’s side, and leaned her head against his shoulder in -pathetic silence, while the listeners stole away, leaving Laurier alone -in the seat he had taken, gazing absently over the moonlit waters while -ocean’s tone seemed to echo over and over: - - “Love, I will love you ever, - Love, I will leave you never!” - -He had sat down very suddenly because he had staggered from emotion -over a shock. - -It had come to him all at once why the girl’s face and voice had -seemed so familiar that it had awakened subtle pain blent with keenest -pleasure. - -The fair, exquisite face was like one that had been lying long beneath -the coffinlid, the voice was one whose sweet, reproachful tones had -once pierced his heart like an avenging sword. She brought back to him -the irrevocable past. - -“So like, so like, she might be Jessie Lyndon’s sister,” he mused. “But -no, that could not be. Mrs. Dalrymple had but one daughter. It is only -a chance likeness.” - -He began to wonder what their names could be, the father and daughter, -and when one of his friends came back to his side he whispered the -question: - -“What did you say their names were?” - -He was astounded when the young man answered calmly: - -“His name is Lyndon, and he calls his daughter Jessie.” - -“Heavens!” and Laurier started violently. - -“What is it?” cried his friend. - -“Nothing! Yes, that wretched sickness is coming on again. Will you -assist me to my stateroom?” - -He lay wakeful and wretched all night, tortured by a name and a -semblance, thinking that surely she must have been related to the dead -girl by some close tie, and wishing to know her just for the sake of -the past. - -The next morning, in spite of his bad night, he was on deck early, -determined, if possible, to make the acquaintance of the new Jessie -Lyndon. - -But our heroine had not been on shipboard three days without finding -out the name of this important fellow passenger. - -Her father had discovered it early and communicated it briefly, saying: - -“Do not recognize him when he comes on deck. If he addresses you, -pretend perfect forgetfulness of him and the past.” - -“You may be sure I will do so,” with a lightning gleam of pride in the -soft, dark eyes, and a swift rush of color to the round cheek. - -But a moment later she asked, almost inaudibly: - -“His wife--does she accompany him?” - -“No, he is alone.” - -When Laurier saw her in the broad glare of daylight he perceived that -her likeness to the dead Jessie Lyndon was more startling even than -it had seemed last night--it might have been Jessie herself with -the additional charm of eighteen over sixteen added to two years of -cultivation, and all the advantages of a rich and becoming dress. - -But when he passed close by her as she lounged in her chair her calm -glance swept over him like the veriest stranger’s, while the color rose -in her cheek at his admiring glance. - -It was quite useless for him to seek an introduction. No one dared -penetrate their chill reserve but the captain, and he refused Laurier’s -request regretfully, saying that the Lyndons were very offish and did -not care to know people. - -But all day Laurier haunted her vicinity. He could scarcely take his -eyes from the beautiful, luring face with its down-dropped eyes bent -so steadily over her book; he simply forgot his betrothed’s existence, -and kept wishing feverishly that something would happen to make him -acquainted with the fascinating stranger. - -How terribly our wild wishes are answered sometimes! - -Laurier did not dream that his good or evil fate would soon grant his -prayer. - -Jessie sang again on deck that night, and Laurier retired to toss on a -restless pillow, and dream of her all night. - -In the dark hour that comes before the dawn a leaping flame shot up -from the steamer into the darkness, irradiating the gloom with awful -light, while panic-stricken voices rang out upon the night, shouting: -“Fire! Fire! Fire!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. AN OCEAN TRAGEDY. - - -Of the horrors that attended the burning of the _Atlanta_ in mid-ocean -that September night none could clearly tell, not even the survivors, -so sudden had been the alarm, so terrible the onset of the leaping -flames, so wild the ferocity of almost every one as they fought over -the lifeboats, forgetting honor and chivalry in the mad rush for -continued existence. - -From the first moment it was evident that the ship was doomed. The fire -had gained such headway before it was discovered that its progress -could not be checked. So the dread alarm, “Fire! Fire! Fire!” rang out -in horror from anguished voices blending with the roaring, leaping -flames, and the sullen roar of old ocean, both deadly enemies to -mankind, and eager for their destruction. - -Over the hurly-burly of wind and wave and fire rose the captain’s -voice, ordering out the lifeboats, and then the struggle for life -began, intensified by the anguished shrieks of women and children, -wailing and screaming in their despair. - -The boats were lowered, but, alas, there would not be room for all the -_Atlanta’s_ freight of human souls! - -So the struggle for supremacy began, the young and the strong jostling -the old and weak, fighting for place and supremacy. Ah, Heaven, that -such cruelty and selfishness should exist beneath the sky! - -The few brave, chivalrous souls, the captain and first mate among -them, who insisted that the women and children should be given first -place and the men take their chances, had their voices drowned by -angry, clamorous cries, as the traitors scrambled down the ladder -pell-mell into the boats, crowding them till they almost sank with -their heavy freight. - -In the awful glare of light that illuminated the sea and sky and the -scene of terror, Leon Lyndon leaned against the deck rail with his arm -about his daughter, pleading, praying the selfish wretches to take her -in and save her, though he must himself perish. - -In the lurid scene of smoke and flame Jessie’s face shone clear and -pale as a lily, as she clasped his neck, entreating him not to let her -be separated from him. - -“Oh, papa, darling, there is no one to love poor Jessie but you! Think -how lonely I should be in the wide world without you, my only friend! -If both cannot be saved, let us die together!” - -The man’s face, white already with the anguish of despair, grew more -pallid still in the lurid light that glared on it as though her -pathetic plaint went through his heart. - -Clasping her close as though in a last embrace, he cried passionately: - -“Oh, my darling, it is a cruel pass to which we are brought, but, as -for me, I am growing old, and it does not much matter. My life has been -a failure, and there are times when I have been tempted to end it with -my own hands. But since I found you, Jessie, you have made it sweeter, -so that I would fain live for you! But it cannot be. Even if I can -persuade those selfish men to give you a place in the lifeboat, I must -be left behind. In a moment we part forever! Listen, Jessie, my sweet -daughter, to the last words of a dying man!” - -She clasped her fair arms about his neck, and raised her lovely face, -tear-wet and pain-drawn, to his own. - -“Papa, darling, we cannot part. Do not send me from you!” - -All this time a man had been lingering near them unheeded. He could see -their agony, but he could not catch their words, drowned in the ocean’s -roar and the crackling of the flames, blent with the wild cries of the -panic-stricken passengers. - -Leon Lyndon bent his convulsed face to his daughter’s and pressed his -lips to hers, then murmured solemnly: - -“Darling, you will not be alone in the world as you said just now, and -as I have made you believe in my selfish anger. You have your mother!” - -“Papa!” she gasped. - -The fire roared and crackled over their heads; the beasts still fought -going down the ladder to safety, and the man close to them watched with -impatience for the father to make some effort to save his child. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. “I LOVED HER ALWAYS.” - - -Leon Lyndon knew that his time was short. The last words must be -hurried, and he continued: - -“If you escape this horror, Jessie, go to New York to Mrs. Dalrymple. -Tell her you are her daughter, sent to her at last by her erring -husband. Tell her that in his last hour Leon Dalrymple’s heart was true -to her as from the first hour he saw her beautiful face. Tell her he -prayed her pardon for the impatient temper and cruel pride that turned -her heart against him; that while both were wrong, he was most to -blame; though if she had only looked back the day she went she would -have seen his arms extended to take her back, and he would have gone -on his knees to beg her to stay! All is past and gone--the hopes, the -fears, the longings, the despair, the vengeful anger that deprived her -of her child--but I have loved her always--I could not thrust her from -my heart!” - -His strained voice broke in agony and he hid his face against her -shoulder, all the anguish of more than eighteen years crowding on him, -blent with the horror of the moment. - -Ah, those cruel years of separation, what agony, what hopeless love, -what mad yearnings, what unutterable despair had been crowded in them! - - If they had known the wastes lost love must cross - The wastes of unlit lands-- - If they had known what seas of salt tears toss - Between the barren sands. - If she had known that when in the wide west - The sun sank gold and red, - He whispered bitterly: “’Tis like the rest,” - The warmth and light have fled. - If he had known that she had borne so much - For sake of the sweet past, - That mere despair said: “This cold look and touch - Must be the cruel last!” - - If she had known the longing and the pain. - If she had only guessed-- - One look--one word--and she perhaps had lain - Reconciled on his breast! - -Too late! Too late! All was ending now, the pain, the despair, of weary -years and Death stared him in the face--Death that he had longed for -often as the best friend of the wretched! - - Why should we fear the beautiful angel Death, - Who waits us at the portals of the skies, - Ready to kiss away the struggling breath, - Ready with gentle hands to close our eyes? - -Leon Lyndon had only one tie to bind him to life--this fair, loving -daughter--but he knew they must be parted now, and he drew her close to -the ladder, followed by Laurier, who had been most impatiently waiting, -and again renewed his prayers to the men who were still crowding into -the last boats. - -It was a sight to touch the coldest heart to anger to see such -selfishness, so many men crowded into the few boats with just a few -fortunate women and children who had had husbands and fathers strong -enough to force a way for them. - -But on deck there were a score of people, two-thirds women and -children, who were preparing to cast themselves into the sea on frail -planks and life preservers, their only refuge. - -The last boat was filled, and there was but one woman in it. The rowers -were putting off when a loud voice cried authoritatively: - -“Hold! You can crowd in another and you shall take this lady, or I will -sink the boat, by thunder, and send your selfish souls to Hades!” - -It was a threat not to be lightly treated, and the rowers waited, -turning their white, angry faces to the ladder where a man clambered -down, assisting a beautiful young girl. - -It was Frank Laurier who had broken in on Lyndon’s unheeded and -uncared-for pleadings, crying abruptly: - -“They will not hear you, sir, but give her to me and I will force them -to take her in, or I will spring into the sea and overset the boat!” - -And catching the astonished girl from her father’s clasp, for the -exigencies of the moment admitted of no ceremony, he made the bold -stroke that insured Jessie’s safety, placing her swooning form in the -boat with the grumbling crew who yet dared not refuse his command. - -Then they rowed quickly away out of reach of the storm of vituperations -from the captain and other men who remained on the deck working away at -a raft, on which they hoped to escape with the remaining women. - -Laurier looked back at Leon Dalrymple as we may call him now, and the -look on his face, the pain, the sorrow, was one never to be forgotten. - -He cried out, though Laurier could not catch the words: - -“My God, what have I done? I have sent her from me, penniless, with the -belt of jewels, all our worldly wealth, secured around my waist! I must -follow and cling to the boat until I can remove it and leave it with -her, my darling; then no matter what becomes of me!” - -The next instant he sprang over the deck rail into the sea, and, guided -by the light of lurid flames, swam after the vanishing lifeboat. - -“Poor fellow, I was about to propose to share with him the spar I see -floating yonder, but he is doubtless crazed with excitement! I will -follow and try to help him, for he cannot swim long in such a sea -without support!” thought Laurier, springing into the sea and clutching -the spar. - -At that moment the first gray light of dawn shone over the sea, hailed -with joy by scores of voices, and the raft was quickly launched, the -rest of the passengers escaping gladly from the burning ship that was -scattering them with firebrands and cinders. - -But the raft so hastily constructed and overcrowded, began to give way, -threatening instant destruction to those who had trusted to its frail -support. - -At that moment an empty lifeboat was observed floating near them, and -they comprehended at once that the first lifeboat, overcrowded with -selfish men, had somehow overturned and cast them all into the sea. -They had no time to bemoan this new horror, they were too glad of this -chance to save the imperiled women and children. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. WAS A MIRACLE WROUGHT? - - -The sea was unusually calm and smooth that morning. A skillful swimmer -could make good headway against the tide. - -Laurier was an athlete, and swimming lightly and strongly after the -vanishing lifeboat, he looked about anxiously for Lyndon, hoping to -assist him. - -To his surprise and dismay not a sign was to be seen of the fair head -of the man in whom he took an almost painful interest for the sake of -his daughter. - -His straining gaze wandered here and there over the illuminated waters, -but the glare of the burning ship pained his eyes, and nothing could -be seen but floating débris, swirling black cinders, and the lifeboats -vanishing in the gloom of the cold, gray dawn. - -His heart sank with pain and sympathy thinking of the life gone down to -the depths so suddenly, and the fair daughter left fatherless. - -“Alone among those selfish wretches who received her so reluctantly -that I feared to trust her to their care! What will become of her, poor -girl?” he thought, and obeying a blind impulse he could not resist, -swam after the boat that he now observed had slackened its speed as -though too heavy freighted, being sunk to the water’s edge. - -What he hoped or expected from following he did not know himself. The -boat was so full they could not have made any room for him. He was all -alone in the wide waste of waters with nothing but a spar between him -and eternity, and the chances were all against his rescue. With his -superb strength and skill he might keep afloat for hours--or, something -might happen to end his life any moment, he could not tell. - -He was near enough now to see that there was some commotion in the boat -as though of men struggling together in fierce dispute, and the rowers -had much ado to keep it from being overset. - -In the next moment the struggle was ended by a horrible deed. - -Several men lifted and cast out of the boat into the sea the -white-robed form of a woman that immediately sank! Shrieks and cries -as of horror echoed from the boat upon the morning air! Then the -rowers bent to their oars, the boat shot away, and Laurier knew that -his efforts to save Jessie Lyndon had all been in vain--the heartless -fiends, fearful for their own safety, had overpowered the more merciful -minority and cast the unwelcome passenger into the ocean. - -Thrown into the boat in a fainting condition, Jessie was a most -undesirable burden, and for the few that pitied her, there was a -majority who scowled in anger, declaring that the additional weight -would cause them all to lose their lives. - -“Oh, no, no, no!--let us be glad we can save her beautiful life!” -cried the only one other woman in the boat, and dipping her hand in -the water, she tenderly laved the girl’s pale brow, trying to restore -animation to the still form. - -But it was a long, deep swoon, and no wonder--torn from her beloved -father, leaving him to a most certain death, Jessie’s nerves had quite -given way. She lay still and lifeless among them, heedless alike of -bitter imprecations or exclamations of tender pity. - -The most of these men were the offscourings of the passengers and -crew--coarse, brutal men, selfish to the last extreme, ignorant of -sympathy or pity. One of these men cried loudly: - -“She is dead, and cannot be resuscitated. Let us cast her out!” - -“Yes, let us do it! It is ill luck carrying a dead body!” cried a -superstitious sailor. - -Then the wrangle began, the woman and a few men declaring that the -girl was yet alive and should be kept in the boat, others clamoring -to get rid of the helpless burden. It ended in a struggle where the -strong overpowered the weak, and amid the shrieks of the woman and the -expostulations of the more merciful men, the unconscious form was torn -from those who would have protected it, and thrown into the sea. - -Then the rowers bent to the oars, and under their efforts the boat shot -away, leaving Frank Laurier in the distance, a horrified spectator of -one of the most dastardly deeds ever committed by fiends in the form of -men. - -Fate had indeed brought Jessie Lyndon and Frank Laurier together again -under circumstances the most awful that could be imagined--both face to -face with death, having scarcely one chance in a hundred of escape from -their perilous strait. - -As for Jessie, the only hope lay in Frank Laurier’s ability to reach -and save her if she should rise to the surface again. - -Ah, what deeds of valor Love can do! How it fires the heart, and nerves -the arm to superhuman strength! - -With a wild prayer to Heaven on his pallid lips, he swam quickly toward -the spot where the white form had disappeared beneath the engulfing -waves, but ere he reached it he saw to his joy that she had risen again -and was floating on the surface, her skirts upheld by a piece of plank -on which they had caught and become entangled. - -His heart gave a wild, suffocating leap; his throat swelled; hot tears -of joy sprang to his dark-blue eyes as he redoubled his efforts to -reach her side. - -Breathless, spent, exhausted with his wild struggle to overcome -death, he reached the silent, floating form with its still, white face -upturned to the sky, the golden locks streaming loose upon the water, -and he clasped the beauteous form with the frenzy we feel when that -which is dearest to us on earth seems slipping away from us forever. - -“Jessie! Jessie!” he groaned, with a wild recollection of a face so -like to this that he had seen once lying among funeral flowers in the -ghastly shadow of the old family vault. “Jessie! Jessie!” But there -came no movement of the white lips in answer to his wild appeal. - -Yet even dead he would not cast her from him, but arranging her form -carefully on the plank, and placing the spar beneath himself, they -floated for an hour--the seeming dead and the anguished living side by -side, away from the burning ship slowly settling beneath the waters, -out on the trackless waste, while the gray light in the sky slowly -brightened. - -Laurier’s eyes gazed on the beautiful face in mute love and despair, -while in his heart there echoed the sweet plaint she had sung but -yesternight: - - “Love, I will love you ever, - Love, I will leave you never, - Ever to me, precious to be, - Never to part, heart bound to heart, - Ever am I, never to say good-by!” - -He had never spoken one word to her, never touched her hand, never -looked into her soft, dark eyes, as he believed, yet while she had -stood there singing in the moonlight, she had lured the heart from his -breast because she brought back to him in fancy the dead girl he had -loved too late. - -He vowed to himself that he would never be parted from this dead love -of his, so fair and still. They would float on together side by side -until he knew there was no longer any hope of her recovery, then he -would fold her in his arms and they would plunge down together to the -depths of ocean. - -A sudden cry--of commingled hope, surprise, and doubt--shrilled over -his blanched lips: - -“Ah, am I dreaming, or is this a blissful reality? Did her lips move, -her eyelids flutter?” - -But it was no dream as he feared, no fancy of an overwrought brain. - -A faint tinge of color had crept into the waxen cheek, the eyelids -fluttered nervously, the lips parted in a strangling gasp. - -A cry of rapture escaped his lips, and at the sound so close to her -ears Jessie opened wide her eyes with a dazed look straight upon his -face. - -There was no recognition at first. It was the startled wonder of a very -young infant that looked out upon him--an infant just waking from sleep. - -But little by little comprehension dawned on her mind. She recognized -a familiar face presently, read passionate love in the blue eyes -fixed upon her own, recalled his identity, and wondered why they were -drifting thus with her head upon his arm, through sunlit seas together. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. ALONE TOGETHER. - - -Laurier watched Jessie’s great, dark eyes widen and darken with -feeling, and guessed the thought in her mind before she murmured in -anguish: - -“Papa!” - -He answered tenderly: - -“Afloat somewhere on the wide, wide sea, as we are, little Jessie, and -held in the hollow of the same Divine Hand that is able to save us even -from this terrible plight. Be brave, and let us hope for the best.” - -His voice trembled, for he knew too well how desperate were their -chances, how slender the thread of hope to which they could cling. - -Yet he was not at all unhappy. - -All that the world held for him as dearest and sweetest was beside -him here in the person of this girl almost a stranger to him, yet so -fatally dear that she blotted out everything on earth beside. - - The world is naught till one is come - Who is the world; then beauty wakes, - And voices sing that have been dumb. - -As for Jessie, as full memory returned and she found herself alone with -Laurier on the sunlit sea, under his tender care, her feelings were -unenviable. - -When she heard that he was on the steamer it brought back all the cruel -past with a rush of pain. - -When she saw him that night and the next day and that night again on -the steamer, she could hardly bear it. When she felt him looking at -her, hot blushes burned her face lest he should recognize her as the -girl who had given him an unrequited love from which he had turned in -disgust. - -But in spite of all her pride, she could not help looking at him at -the rare times when he was not looking at her, and she saw that he was -handsomer than ever, but with a different expression, a gravity he had -not worn when she knew him first; something that was almost sadness -lurking in his dark-blue eyes, and chastening the debonair smile that -had thrilled her heart with such subtle tenderness. - -She knew from the captain that he had sought an introduction to her, -but she was frightened at the bare idea of it. She would not have -spoken to him for anything the world held. - -Then came the horrible alarm of fire, and she had rushed from her -stateroom in the white dressing gown, warm and dainty, in which she had -thrown herself down to rest on her couch. Her father had met her and -caught her in his arms. - -She saw Frank Laurier lingering near, but she quickly turned her head -away, saying to herself that she would not speak to him if she were -dying. - -Such a little time afterward she had been caught up in his arms and -borne down the ladder to the boat, swooning as soon as she was placed -in it, and now--now--the incredible horror of the thought made her -dizzy--she was lost to all the world but this man, alone with him on -the wide, wide sea, under his protection, at his mercy. - -How had it all come about? - -Feminine curiosity made her put aside her vow of silence, and she -looked at him with wide, solemn eyes, murmuring: - -“Where is the boat?” - -“You fell out of it and sank, and those wretches left you to your fate. -I saw them and swam near, catching you as you came to the surface.” - -“Then--I--owe--you--my--life!” - -“Yes,” he answered, and she wondered at the sweet, significant smile -that played around his lips. - -He dared not tell his companion, either, of how the fiends in the boat -had cast her out into the sea to perish. The shock would be too great -to her nerves, already shattered by grief at her father’s loss. - -He said to himself that if they escaped the perils of the sea the time -might come when he could safely tell her these things and ask her to -give him her life that he had saved to gladden his home forever. - -Higher and higher climbed the sun in the heavens, and the sea glittered -with a brilliancy that pained their eyes while the whitecapped waves -rocked them on the breast of old ocean, the only living objects in the -scene, while far in the distance the smoldering hulk of the _Atlanta_ -was slowly sinking from sight as it burned to the water’s edge. - -They kept close together, their eyes turned on the far distance, -watching for the gleam of a sail that might presage rescue, but at -last hope began to die in their hearts, they were so weary with the -buffeting of the cruel waves and the hot glare of the sun that they -were almost ready to close their eyes on the waste of sunlit water and -sink down, down, down, through the cool, green darkness to eternal -rest. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. A HEART OF SYMPATHY. - - -It was a stroke of the rarest good fortune that Laurier and Jessie -should be saved by a homeward-bound steamer--the _Scythia_, going -straight to New York. - -What a sensation they created when the passengers discovered them -floating in the water on the poor raft formed of the plank and the spar. - -A boat was quickly lowered, and they were drawn into it with all speed, -and, oh, what pity and kindness was showered on them after their long -exposure and peril! - -The men took charge of Laurier, and the women of Jessie, every one -eager to contribute dry clothing and administer all needed comforts. - -All were strangers alike to Jessie, but among the passengers Laurier -found several acquaintances, people he had met in London barely a week -ago, and whom he knew intimately in New York. - -Laurier satisfied their curiosity by a straightforward recital of the -burning of the _Atlanta_, then he was glad enough to have a warm meal -and to be left to rest in his stateroom, where, spent and weary, he -remained until late next morning. - -When he came on deck in a fairly well-fitting suit of clothing -contributed by a friend, he looked about anxiously for Jessie, hoping -she was well enough to come out this bright, sunny morning. - -But she was not visible. - -“Miss Lyndon is not well enough to come out to-day. The doctor thinks -she should rest in her stateroom till to-morrow,” he was told. - -He could hardly wait till to-morrow to see her again, he was so -impatient. - - How can I wait until you come to me? - The once fleet mornings linger by the way, - Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee. - At my unrest they seem to pause and play, - Like truant children while I sigh and say, - How can I wait? - -Meanwhile Jessie, really ill from fatigue and grief over her father’s -unknown fate, rested until next day, her retirement enlivened by the -visits of the ladies who vied with each other in their attentions -and condolences, every one having fallen in love with the beautiful -stranger. - -They thought it most romantic that such a handsome pair as Laurier and -Jessie should have been cast away together at sea. - -“Such an incident should end most naturally in love and marriage,” -declared Miss Chanler, who was a very romantic girl. - -“What a pity that Miss Ellyson should be in the way!” added Mrs. de -Vries, a young society matron in Laurier’s set. - -Jessie’s large eyes had an inquiring expression that moved her to add -further: - -“Of course, you know all about his engagement?” - -“No, I do not. I never met him until on shipboard,” Jessie answered -with seeming indifference. - -“And you did not really know that he is going home to marry a girl he -has been engaged to over two years?” - -“No,” Jessie answered carelessly. - -“Then we must tell you about it. The story is quite romantic, if it -will not tire you to hear it.” - -“Not at all,” she answered calmly, glad that they could not notice her -agitation. - -So he was not married to proud, scornful Cora yet? She wondered why, -and listened eagerly to Mrs. de Vries as she rattled on and told all -that had happened as we already know. - -As Mrs. de Vries finished her dramatic recital, a quick sob followed -from Jessie, who was weeping the tears that rise from a tender heart -over her rival’s calamity. - -“Oh, I did wrong to unnerve you so. Forgive me,” the lady cried -repentantly. - -“It is so dreadful!” Jessie sobbed, in answer, and for some moments she -found it impossible to command her feelings. - -Then she stifled the bursting sobs, murmuring faintly: - -“It was so distressing I could not help it!” - -“It does credit to your tender heart, dear girl, but do not forget that -the story is going to end happily after all.” - -A flood of sympathy for Frank Laurier’s troubles had been aroused in -Jessie’s heart, blotting out all her passionate resentments. - -“How he has suffered through the sufferings of the proud beauty he -loved so well! And she, too, has atoned for all her heartlessness in -the ordeal she has passed through. I pity them too much to hate them -any longer, and when we meet to-morrow I will be very kind to him,” she -thought. - -It was just what Laurier had been wishing--that she would be kind to -him when they met again. - -The next morning she came on deck in a pretty gown of Miss Chanler’s -that had been altered to fit by a clever maid. - -She looked lovely, though very, very pale still, as she went up to -Laurier with frankly extended hand. - -“I am much better, and I thank you for saving my life,” she faltered, -with naïve directness. - -“The opportunity made me very happy,” he answered, pressing the little -hand warmly as he led her to a steamer chair, and lingered by her side, -secretly jealous of every admiring glance that came her way. - -But how could he blame them for feasting their eyes on such flawless -beauty as Jessie Lyndon’s, as perfect as an opening flower! - -No one could look into those deep, soft, dark eyes without a thrill -at the heart; no one could gaze at the perfect, crimson lips without -wishing to press a kiss on them, or to embrace the graceful young -figure with the rounded slenderness of eighteen marking its lissom -curves, while the wealth of wavy golden hair drew the eyes again and -again in irresistible admiration. - -But it seemed that even if Frank Laurier should fall in love with -Jessie he would have several very formidable rivals. - -Most of the eligible young men on board vied with each other in -attentions to the newcomer. - -They declared that she was the most beautiful creature ever seen, -and it was plainly to be seen that she could have her pick and choice -of lovers. It mattered not that she was very shy and quiet, grieving -always over her father’s loss, they hovered about her like bees about -a flower, while the ladies were also so charmed that they forgot to be -jealous of the lovely girl. - -If Laurier was jealous he dared not say so, but the other young fellows -grumbled that just because Laurier had saved her life he tried to -monopolize all her time--and what was the use?--for they all knew he -was going home to marry an heiress, and there was no need to flirt with -beautiful Miss Lyndon. - -Jessie herself wondered why, under the circumstances, he paid her so -much attention, but being devoid of vanity, she ascribed it to the -natural kindliness of his heart, and was very sweet and gentle in -return, telling herself he had been so kind she must not repulse him -these last few days when they would soon be parted forever. There -were times when she could not help feeling that every look and action -breathed love, then she would chide herself for her vanity. - -“I am as vain and silly as when I thought him in love with me before, -because he showed me some meaningless attentions just to pique the girl -he loved into jealousy. I must not fall into such a mistake again,” she -mused, trying to curb her tempestuous heart that beat so fast at his -impassioned glances. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. HOW COULD HE LOSE HER THUS? - - -The days flew fast and to-morrow their eventful journey would be -over--they would land at New York. - -More than one heart was secretly sorry, grieving to lose sight of one -sweet passenger--lovely Jessie Lyndon. - -And what made the parting worse was that Jessie gave them no hope -of meeting her again, in spite of their broad hints at renewing her -acquaintance in New York. - -She had said to one and all that she was going to relatives in the -city, but not to any one, even Laurier, did she disclose their names. - -In fact, Jessie was ill at ease over the thought of returning to her -mother, because there she must meet again the proud beauty, Cora. - -“I must be there through all the excitement of their wedding. How can I -bear it?” she asked herself in frank dismay. - -It seemed to her that she could not bear the pain of seeing him wedded -to another. She would be sure to turn pale and tremble, and thus betray -the secret of her sad heart--her unrequited love. - -She wished that the wedding were over and done with, so that they might -be gone away on their bridal tour before she entered the house. - -The more she thought of it the more she felt that she could not bear -the excitement of the wedding, and at length she resolved to seek out -some of her former humble friends and remain with them until Laurier -and his bride were gone on their wedding tour. - -That last night before they landed was the most beautiful they had -experienced. The azure dome was gemmed with countless stars that were -mirrored in the calm sea, the moon shed a bewitching, silvery light on -everything, and the air was as soft as in midsummer. - -Every one remained on deck till a late hour. They had music and -flirting to beguile the time, and Laurier betrayed the fact of Jessie’s -talent. - -“Oh, why did you not tell us before?” they cried. “Oh, do not refuse to -sing for us!” - -They had been so kind that she could not well refuse; besides, she -loved to sing as the birds love to warble. - -She whispered to Laurier: - -“I will do my best because they have all been so kind to me, but I fear -I shall break down thinking of poor papa and the uncertainty of his -fate.” - -He tried to cheer her with hopeful words: - -“Look on the bright side; your father may have been saved just as we -were, and you may soon be reunited.” - -“I fear not. He had a presentiment of death, I believe, for he sent -messages as from the dying to his friends in New York,” she sighed. - -“Still, I would not give up hope. Many people have been known to -survive terrible accidents,” he replied, and she wondered if he was -thinking of all that had happened to him and Cora. - -She sighed, and began to strum softly on the guitar some one had -offered for her accompaniments. - -Then she sang, and the tremor in her voice made it all the sweeter. -They hung spellbound on the liquid notes sweet as the nightingale. - -“It is another Melba!” they cried in delight, but some were hushed into -silence, their very heartstrings stirred by the divine strains. - -When she stopped at last, all were clamorous for more, but she pleaded -weariness. - -A low voice murmured in her ear: - -“Just one more, please--the song you sang for your father the night I -first saw you.” - -“I must have sung several,” she replied, and he answered: - -“‘Love, I will love you ever!’” - -The significant earnestness of the tone and words made her heart throb -so quickly that the blood mantled her cheek with crimson. She made no -answer, just swept the strings and sang the sweet old song, while his -heart kept echoing the tender refrain: - - “Love, I will love you ever, - Love, I will leave you never, - Faithful and true, - Ever to me precious to be, - Heart bound to heart, - Never to part, - Love, I will love you ever!” - -She paused, and no one ventured to ask her to sing again. They wished -to keep the last sweet strain in their hearts. - -She turned her face up to the starry sky, and little by little they -fell away from her side, comprehending that she preferred to be alone. - -Soon no one was left but Laurier, and for some little time he kept -silence. It was enough to be near her, to gaze on the lovely face -upturned to the moonlit sky, to breathe the same air with her, and to -wonder of what she was thinking with that pensive curve on her crimson -lips, whether of her dead father, or a possible lover. - -He started while a twinge of jealousy tore through his heart like -red-hot iron. A lover! Oh, how he hated the thought! - -Then another thought came to vex him. - -To-morrow they would be parted. She was going out of his life to -unknown friends. - -And she had shown no disposition to continue her acquaintance with him -beyond to-morrow. - -Could he bear to lose her thus? - -Life would be unutterably dreary without this beautiful girl who had -come into his life so strangely, and was about to fade from it so soon. - -His heart leaped with great, suffocating throbs. He must speak, must -know his fate! - -He leaned closer to her till their heads almost touched, the brown, -curly one, and the wavy, golden-tressed one. - -“Jessie,” he faltered. - -She started violently, and turned her face inquiringly toward him, as -he continued: - -“Ever since that first night I saw you with your pure face upturned -to the sky, the words of your song have echoed in my heart. Will you -forgive me for daring to say them over to you? ‘Love, I will love you -ever!’” - -She could not pretend to misunderstand him. With dilated, wondering -eyes, she gazed at him, as he continued thrillingly: - -“I know this seems strange to you--strange and abrupt. But once before -I knew and loved a Jessie Lyndon, so like to you that you might have -been twin sisters. Perhaps you have had a near relative of that name?” -anxiously. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. THE HEART OF A LOVER. - - -The stars shone on, the wind sighed, the sea moaned, but Jessie’s heart -almost stopped still. - -The moment she had dreaded had come at last. - -He was asking her about that other Jessie Lyndon. - -And she would have to answer so that he would not suspect her identity. - -Her heart beat suffocatingly and almost choked her voice as she tried -to speak. “I have startled you, venturing so abruptly on this subject,” -he said. “I would have waited longer, only that we shall be parting -to-morrow, and I feared lest I should never see you again. Ah, Jessie, -that is such a horrible thought to me. I could not bear it! I cannot -bear to think that I shall never see you again! I love you--love you -with a passion undreamed of till now! Are you willing for me to love -you, to let me try to win your heart in return?” - -A sudden flash of pride shone in her eyes, and she tried to answer him -with scornful words, but they died on her lips. - -She loved him so dearly, oh, Heaven, in spite of all her resolves -against it, that she could not bring herself to say one cruel word -to him, no matter how much she knew he was to blame. If she could -have known that he was speaking truly, that he actually loved her, as -he said, and had he but been free she would have fallen against his -breast, and sobbed out all her love in his arms, the happiest girl in -the whole world. - -But once he had deceived her, and in fancy his kiss burned on her lips -again--sweetest and falsest kiss the world ever knew. - -She nerved herself to lift her head and drew back from him in sad -surprise while he exclaimed ardently: - -“You do not answer me, Jessie--may I hope, then, or----” The words died -on his lips, for she interrupted reproachfully: - -“Mr. Laurier, you have no right to speak such words to me--you who are -going to New York to marry another girl!” - -He gave a cry as if stunned, and his face drooped against his breast. - -He had been forgetting Cora for many a day. This lovely girl had driven -her from his memory. - -Thus suddenly recalled to memory by her gently reproachful words, he -groaned in agony, not daring to meet her dark, soft eyes. - -“Is it not true?” she asked gently, but, looking up, he groaned angrily: - -“It is Mrs. de Vries who has told you this! She was always a noted -gossip!” - -“Yes, she told me, but why should she not, if it is true, and you do -not deny it,” she faltered, almost hoping that he could. - -But Frank Laurier could not be untruthful. A bursting sigh heaved his -breast as she watched him with pathetic, dark eyes. - -He turned on her almost fiercely, crying: - -“You think me a vile wretch, do you not?” - -“No--but--a flirt--perhaps!” pensively, and he gathered himself -together to do battle for his happiness. - -“I am not a flirt, Jessie, but I may be a vile wretch, for since the -first night I saw you I have entirely forgotten the poor girl I am -engaged to marry. Instead of loving her I almost hate her because she -stands between your heart and mine!” - -He paused, looking at her, and found her expression doubtful and -wondering. - -“That sounds very fickle and cruel to you, does it not?” he cried, “but -let me explain, and you will see that I am not quite so bad as I seem. -I was engaged to Cora two years ago, but just before our wedding day -I met a girl--the Jessie Lyndon I spoke of to you just now--and there -was a bitter rivalry between the two young girls, for I admired Jessie -Lyndon very much. But I was bound to Cora and must keep my promise. The -girl Jessie died very suddenly, and then I found out strangely that -she was dearer to my heart than the living Cora. But I kept my secret -locked in my heart, and would have married her the same only that our -marriage has been twice postponed by a strange fatality. Now it is -announced for the third time, and I am going home to marry her, but in -the interval of my absence my heart has turned from her as utterly as -if it had never known one throb of love for her in the past.” - -She did not answer. She was dazed and full of wonder. - -He had said such astonishing words that she could not forget them. Why -did he think she was dead? How had he made so strange a mistake? - -He added feverishly: - -“All this while I have been loving Jessie Lyndon dead better than -Cora Ellyson living, and when I saw you that night on the steamer my -heart went out to you passionately as if you had risen from the dead -in answer to my yearning prayer. It would be wrong to wed Cora with my -heart full of you! I will go to her and confess the truth, and ask her -to release me so that I may lay my life at your feet!” - -Oh, what a moment of triumph for Jessie Lyndon! - -When she remembered that awful night at Mrs. Dalrymple’s it seemed too -strange to be true that she had won from proud, scornful Cora the lover -whom she worshiped, thus paying back scorn for scorn. - -And she could not doubt he loved her now. It quivered in his voice, and -flushed his cheek, thrilling her with a secret happiness too deep for -words. - -Her heart cried wildly: - -“Oh, if he were but free, my handsome lover, I would confess my love -and make him happy!” - -But the thought of Cora came over her with an icy chill. - -He had belonged to her first, and, after all her suffering, Jessie was -too noble a rival to break that proud girl’s heart. - -She turned her face from him to the shining stars so that he could not -read the despairing love written on it, and answered, firmly though -gently: - -“I forbid you to tell her the truth, for I can never accept happiness -based on the wreck of another devoted heart. You must marry Cora as you -promised to do, and, perhaps, you will learn to love her again!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. THE BLACKMAILER. - - -Madame Barto’s doorbell clanged impatiently twice, and then a deeply -veiled young lady was admitted, and shown to the small parlor where -madame received her callers. She glanced around her, muttering: - -“Almost two years since I was here, yet how familiar everything -appears! Madame herself would have the same old lying story to tell, -perchance, if I were to cross her palm again with silver! Pah! the -dingy hole disgusts me. I wish that wretch would hasten! I have no time -to waste here, and Aunt Verna so ill that it was unseemly for me to -quit the house.” - -She paced up and down the floor with the impatience of a caged lioness. - -“Why don’t he come? It is money again, I suppose! Money--always money! -And since my unfaithful guardian speculated with my money and lost so -much of it, I have scarcely enough for my own needs. I shall be glad -when I am safely married to Frank, for then I shall defy Carey Doyle -to do his worst. I can deny his story if he dares bring any charges, -and Frank Laurier, I know, will defend his wife’s honor to the last. -Ah, how I long to see him again, my love, my own! His steamer is due -to-day, and I am wild with impatience. Ah! what cruel suspense I have -endured since he went away. And even now I dread the meeting. My beauty -is not as brilliant as before my terrible accident, and I shall always -be compelled to depend on cosmetics to aid the charms that before were -unsurpassed!” - -She flung back her thick veil and paused before a mirror, studying her -face intently, as she had contracted a habit of doing now. - -She was indeed changed from the brilliant Cora of two years ago. - -The beauty specialists had done their best, but they could not restore -all that the cruel flames had licked up so relentlessly that fatal -wedding eve. - -She had tried to cheat Frank Laurier, but she could not cheat herself, -and she dreaded inexpressibly the moment of their meeting. - -“Will his love survive the change? Has it, indeed, survived our long -parting?” she asked herself anxiously, for she had not failed to notice -how indifferent his letters had been, and how few and far between. - -She thought: - -“Perhaps he thinks I should release him, and that his indifference will -goad me into it, but I will never do it, not even if he asked me! After -all, I am afraid Frank is rather fickle in his love! He turned from me -to another--that Jessie Lyndon that my aunt claimed as her daughter. If -she had lived, I fear she would have made me trouble with Frank, for he -must have secretly admired her, and it is fortunate for me in all ways -that she died--for one thing, on account of her rivalry; the other, -that now Aunt Verna will leave me her millions when she dies! And that -may not be long, for she is certainly very ill now, and--ah!” her low -soliloquy ended with a start as a young man abruptly entered the room. - -“Good morning, Miss Ellyson. I am glad you obeyed my summons so -promptly,” he sneered, with coarse triumph. - -She frowned angrily as she cried: - -“You are impertinent, Carey Doyle. How dared you summon me here?” - -“You have ignored all my letters asking for money, and I had too much -respect for your position to annoy you at your aunt’s, so I thought it -was the best plan for you to meet me here and discuss matters.” - -“What is it that you wish?” - -“Money, of course!” - -“Wretch! I have paid you over and over for keeping that miserable -secret!” - -“You have not paid me half that it was worth to you, my proud lady!” -Carey Doyle answered boldly. - -She was furious with rage, her eyes gleaming, her face death-white, her -small hands clenched. She thought bitterly that she wished he were dead -and lying by the side of her victim down in the old stone quarry, the -thought of whose ghastly secret had kept her sleepless many a night. - -But she had reasoned to herself many a time that the crime could never -be traced to her, for she had covered up the clues too cleverly by her -story of his suicidal threats. - -Even if they were to find the whitening bones of Ernest Noel down in -the dim old quarry, they could not fasten his death on anybody. They -would simply believe he had carried out his threat of suicide. - -Her anger blazed at the thought that in this insolent man, the witness -of her evil deed, lay her only peril. - -“I will not give you any more money, I have exhausted my resources. -Besides, I am not afraid of your story. You will not dare repeat it, -for I would give you into custody for attempted blackmail!” she hissed -threateningly. - -But Carey Doyle’s laugh was not reassuring. It stung her to fury, yet -inspired her with alarm, though she persisted: - -“I am not afraid of you. No one will take your word against mine!” - -“You may risk it if you choose,” he answered, with persistent -nonchalance. - -She measured him with a scornful glance, but she could not cow him, and -her heart sank with fear. - -By to-morrow Frank Laurier would be in New York. Within a week, if -woman’s wit could compass it, she would be his wife. Dare she risk any -disclosure that might rouse her lover’s suspicions, and so postpone the -wedding again? - -She groaned in spirit, but she decided that she dare not defy Carey -Doyle until she had a husband to defend her against his charges. - -“How much do you require?” - -“Just one thousand dollars!” - -“You ask too much.” - -“I cannot do with less.” - -“You must!” - -“I will not!” - -They glared at each other, but she saw that she could not shake his -resolution. - -Swallowing her rage and chagrin, she expostulated: - -“It is but a month ago I gave you five hundred -dollars--and--and--since that night you helped me you have had four -thousand dollars.” - -“For which I am most profoundly grateful,” airily, “and a poor price -for such a secret, too, so you shouldn’t mind a last payment such as I -ask for now.” - -“A last payment! You will be calling for more in a week.” - -“I swear to you I will not. I am about to leave the city for Alaska.” - -“Do you mean it?” - -“As surely as the sun shines in the heavens this bright September day! -Perhaps you have read, Miss Ellyson, of the wonderful gold finds in -Alaska that have stirred the whole country into a fever. Well, I have -joined a party to go out to the gold diggings, and I mean to make -my fortune or lose my life, whichever fate wills. It will cost me a -thousand dollars to get to the Klondike, so you see I shall have no -means of returning from those frozen wilds till I make my pile. Surely -you would not begrudge a thousand dollars to be rid of me forever?” - -No, she would not. It would be a small price to pay to rid herself of -this terrible incubus. - -She had read in all the newspapers of the perils of the awful journey -to Alaska, and she thought in her heart with joy that surely he could -never return from beyond the far Yukon. - -Cora had shuddered at the tales of Alaska, but now she brightened at -the thought that Carey Doyle was not, indeed, likely to return from so -grim a journey. - -“Since you need it so much and promise never to ask for more, I will -try to get the sum for you within the week,” she said, adding: - -“I will send a letter to this address telling you when and how I will -pay it to you. Is that satisfactory?” - -“Perfectly, for I know you will keep your word,” he replied, smiling to -himself at the victory he had won over the haughty girl who scorned him -even while she cringed beneath his power. - -She inclined her head haughtily, drew down the thick veil again, and -swept out of the house down to her waiting limousine, and so back to -Mrs. Dalrymple’s, where, since her return from the hospital, she again -made her home, the Van Dorns being indefinitely absent in Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. “A BREAKING HEART,” SHE SAID. - - -Mrs. Dalrymple had never felt like a well woman since the day she -kissed her daughter’s dead face and turned away from the old family -vault, feeling that her last hope in life was gone. - -Alone and lonely, though she had the whole world at command by -the power of wealth, Verna Dalrymple, still a young woman, and a -magnificently beautiful one, was as wretched as the veriest beggar -starving in the streets. - -Never since the moment she had turned from her angry young husband, -doubting his love and hating his poverty, had Verna Dalrymple known a -really happy hour. - -Despite her pride and resentment that had driven them apart, she had -loved Leon, her husband, with the passion of her life, and realized it -too late. - -The decree of divorce she had permitted her parents to secure for her -fell like the trump of doom upon her heart, and the coming of her child -had been her only consolation. - -All these years she had fought down with resolution the passion of her -heart, loving and hating alternately the man whose brief appearance on -the stage of her life had been as fateful as a tragedy. - -Yet she knew not if he were dead or living, for never since the moment -of their parting had she gazed on his fair, handsome face. - -The divorce case, based on nonsupport and incompatibility of temper, -had been cleverly managed by her lawyers without bringing them together -again, and when she fainted on receiving the decree of divorce, all -supposed it was from hysterical excitement; none guessed that the iron -of despair had entered her soul on knowing herself parted forever from -Leon Dalrymple. - -She clung to his name still, with the excuse that it was for the sake -of the unborn child, that it might bear the paternal name. - -But with the coming of the beloved daughter one bitter drop always -mingled with her cup of joy. - -It was that he could not share her happiness. - -His child looked at her with its father’s face, and had the sunny curls -that had crowned his handsome head. - -There was wordless reproach in the resemblance. - - There are words of deeper sorrow - Than the wail above the dead; - Both shall live, but every morrow - Wake us from a widowed bed. - - And when thou wouldst solace gather, - When our child’s first accents flow, - Wilt thou teach her to say “Father!” - Though his care she must forego? - - When her little hand shall press thee, - When her lip to thine is pressed, - Think of him whose love had blessed thee, - Think of him thy love had blessed! - -Four years the child remained the idol of her life, and kept alive in -her heart the father’s memory--then the blow fell that almost crushed -her--the loss of the child! - -It was stolen while taking an airing in the park with its nurse. - -The maid had been flirting with a policeman--she said she had only just -turned her head--when the little darling had been snatched up by a -stranger--a man with a black wig and bushy whiskers who got away with -the child in spite of her pursuit. - -On being cross-questioned, the maid admitted that the little girl had -previously made the acquaintance of a blond gentleman with a melancholy -aspect, and the two--Darling and the gentlemanly stranger--had become -fast friends. - -The little one would run to meet him, shouting with joy when he -appeared, usually with a sweet bunch of flowers or a new toy. They -would sit together on a bench a while, and Darling would prattle to -him joyously, then with a long-drawn sigh he would leave the spot and -reappear several days afterward, always meeting a glad welcome from the -child. She did not think it was any harm as he seemed such a perfect -gentleman. And she was sure it was not he who had kidnapped the child. -It was a dark man, all bushy, black whiskers and wig. - -The girl was lying; because she had been so busy with her flirtation -that she did not know just when the child ran away to meet the blond -gentleman beckoning from a distance, and threw herself into his arms. -Then it was easy enough to whip into a carriage with her and away. - -So the frightened nurse stuck to her story of the dark stranger, but -the mother’s heart was not deceived. She knew that Darling’s abductor -was no one but her father, who, cheated of her sweetness all these -years, had thus taken his revenge. - -For a while the most bitter resentment possessed the mother’s heart. - -She employed detectives, and spared neither time, money, nor patience -in the effort to recover the child. - -For several years the search went on, ending at last without success. - -Leon Dalrymple, who had placed his child with his sister, the wife of a -poor artisan in an obscure part of the city, and then sailed for Europe -himself, had so cleverly covered up his tracks that Mrs. Dalrymple’s -daughter was reared in poverty in the same city where her mother was -rolling in wealth, yet as effectively separated as if continents had -rolled between them. - -So the years went on, and Mrs. Dalrymple, plunging into the social -whirl, tried to drown her grief in vain. - -Her parents died, and their large fortune fell to her, the only -surviving child. Then she took her orphan niece, Cora Ellyson, into her -home and heart. - -But in no sense could Cora fill the lost child’s place. She was -passionate, self-willed, imperious, and ungrateful. Her aunt wearied of -her often, despairing of any congeniality between them, and secretly -anxious that Cora should marry and thus remove to another home. - -Then came the episode of Jessie Lyndon, the wonderful likeness that -startled Mrs. Dalrymple, and the discovery of the family birthmark on -the young girl’s breast. - -Swiftly the links were fastened in the chain that proved the dead girl -to be the stolen child, recovered only in death. - -It was cruel, cruel! The woman’s heart so long on the rack of suspense -almost broke beneath the awful strain of hope’s decay. - -After Jessie’s death and Cora’s accident no one thought it strange that -she gave up society, draping herself in the deepest mourning garb. - -In her restless mood before finding Jessie she had promised to marry a -titled Englishman, who, meeting her abroad, had followed her home to -plead his suit. - -Now she abruptly canceled this engagement, to the despair of her -suitor, who adored her beauty as much as he did her millions. - -Her heart had never been in it. No man had touched that since she had -been parted from her husband, but she had thought to fill up her empty -life with gratified vanity, to wear the tiara of a duchess. - -Her heart revolted, and she realized that she would do her lover wrong -to give him the hand without the heart. - -So, in spite of his entreaties, she took back her promise, and set -society caviling as much as it had done at her divorce. She did not -care. She was growing indifferent to everything now that she had found -Darling and lost her again in death. - -So it happened that as time went by she lost heart and hope, sickening -of a vague disease without a name, the slow loss of interest in life -that had nothing left to make it dear. - -She lay ill on her bed at last, and the old family physician came and -shook his head and said it must be nervous prostration. - -“It is a breaking heart,” she replied wearily. - -“No, no.” - -“I tell you yes,” she cried. “It was too cruel a blow, finding Darling -and losing her again as I did. I have never recovered from it. The -thorn has been in my heart always, and I can never recover.” - -“You should have married the duke. It would have diverted your mind to -wear a coronet.” - -“It would only have wearied me,” she replied, and the look in her -great, languid, dark eyes made his old heart ache. “You may spare your -pills and potions, doctor. They cannot cure me, for I do not wish to -get well. I am reaping the crop of pain I sowed in my passionate youth, -and I am weary of life!” - -“You should have married another man and forgotten that episode,” he -said; but she turned her face to the wall with a stifled moan: - -“I could not forget!” - -And he went away perplexed and unhappy, realizing that the medical art -could not avail to cure that subtle malady--hopelessness and weariness -of life. - -So it happened that she grew worse and worse, weaker and weaker. She -swallowed the doctor’s tonics patiently; but they did not do her any -good, and she smiled sorrowfully when he chided her because she would -not make an effort to live. - -“The world is empty,” she murmured again, turning her lovely, pallid -face to the wall. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. “BILLING AND COOING WILL WAIT.” - - -So it happened that on the day when the _Scythia_ came into port--the -same day that Cora Ellyson went to Madame Barto’s at Carey Doyle’s -command--Mrs. Dalrymple lay so ill that Cora felt it wrong to leave the -house even for a moment. - -Yet she dared not disobey the commands of her merciless tyrant. - -On returning home she received a note from Frank Laurier announcing -that he had arrived in New York that morning and would call on her that -evening. The poor fellow having been parted from Jessie by her own -decree of separation, had no resource now but to return to Cora, and -most bitter indeed was the penalty. - -He would never forget that night when his beautiful love had so gently -forbidden him to hope to win her and bade him return to Cora. - -Prayers and entreaties were of no avail; she put them gently aside, -saying: - -“Even if I loved you, how could I be happy with you when you had broken -another’s heart for my sake?” - -True as truth herself, she could not contemplate such treachery calmly, -even though Cora had treated her so cruelly that many would have held -it a fair revenge. - -He took her little hand in spite of her protest, and held it, and it -fluttered like a little, white bird in his clasp. - -He looked full into her eyes, and, oh, how soft and dark they were, as -if full of unshed tears. - -“Answer me one question,” he said: “If I had been free to woo you, if -there had been no Cora who held my promise, could you have given me -your love?” - -In the beautiful moonlight he saw her bosom heave with emotion, and she -faltered sadly: - -“You must pardon me for not answering that question.” - -Then she tore her hand away, and fled from him in the wildest haste. He -saw her no more till next morning in the rush of leaving. - -He went up to her, saying: - -“We shall be landing presently. Shall I take you to your friends, -Jessie?” - -She looked up at him very pale and constrained. - -“My--my--friends are very plain, humble people--not at all in your set, -Mr. Laurier.” - -“No matter how humble, I would like to see you safely to them,” he said. - -“It will not be necessary, I thank you. Mrs. de Vries has lent me the -money for a cab, and I shall know where to go, as I have only been away -from New York two years,” she replied quietly. - -“You will at least allow me to see you safely on shore, and to find you -a cab?” - -“I shall be very grateful,” with a gentle smile. - -After that, in the rush and confusion, he could say no more, but he -stayed by her side and waited through all the excitement of the merry -adieus, noting how popular she had become in the few days on the -_Scythia_, so that every one wished to touch her hand and wish her a -happy future. At last he was leading her down the gangplank, saying -to her with a mournful attempt at cheerfulness that the fire on the -_Atlanta_ had saved them the bother of having their luggage examined -and paying customhouse duties. - -A cab was found much sooner than he desired, and he stood by it, -holding her hand very tight, longing to never let it go. - -“Are we never to meet again?” he asked mournfully, and she answered, -very low: - -“We must, I fear, for our social circles may one day be the same--but -not yet--not until--after you--are--married!” - -She almost gasped as she uttered the last words, and tottered into the -taxi, sinking heavily into the seat. - -“Where to, lady?” asked the chauffeur, and she whispered a reply that -Frank did not hear. - -The door banged, the machine started, and he stood gazing after the -taxi with his heart in his eyes as lonely in that gay, bustling throng -as though stranded on a desert shore. - - The world is naught when one is gone - Who was the world. Then the heart breaks - That this is last that once was won. - -He hurried to his bachelor lodgings. He had written to his servants to -make ready for his coming. From there he wrote, by and by, the note to -Cora announcing his return, and his intention of calling on her that -evening. He hurried to Mrs. Dalrymple’s mansion that evening, but while -he waited for Cora’s entrance, a sad-faced servant informed him that -she would be with him as soon as she could leave her aunt, who was so -ill that she was not expected to survive the night. - -A rush of surprise and grief over this startling news drove his own -troubles, temporarily, from the young man’s mind. - -Five minutes later Cora hurried into the room, superbly attired, -dabbing her eyes with a damp handkerchief, inwardly thankful that this -show of grief would account for the vanished luster of her once bright -orbs. - -“Frank, dearest!” she cried, throwing herself upon his breast. - -They sat down a little apart from each other by his own maneuver, while -he said anxiously: - -“This distressing news of Mrs. Dalrymple has driven everything else out -of my head. Is it really so bad, Cora?” - -“It is the strangest case I ever heard of, Frank. Aunt Verna has been -steadily declining for long months of a malady so obscure that no -doctor can diagnose it, and she declares herself that it is a breaking -heart.” - -“Oh, how sad, how pitiful!” he cried, and his thoughts returned to the -day when he had seen her bending, a sad, black-draped figure, over her -daughter’s bier. So this was the cruel end. - -His betrothed continued sorrowfully: - -“It will break my heart to lose my dear Aunt Verna, even though I shall -be the heiress of all her millions!” - -She thought it was a good idea to remind him slyly of this fact, but he -looked at her coldly. - -“You should not be counting on such things, Cora. It sounds mercenary,” -he said, rebukingly, while all the while his eyes were taking in the -change that had come over her once brilliant beauty--faded like a rose -that has languished in the withering heat of an August day. - -She looked at him reproachfully: - -“Oh, Frank, I did not mean it that way, I love Aunt Verna dearly, and I -am praying that she will not die.” - -“Is there the slightest hope?” - -“The doctors say if she had some shock to arouse her and draw her -thoughts from herself, it might do good, but she cares about nothing. -She has not shown any animation to-day, except a faint spark of -interest when I told her you were coming.” - -“I should so love to see her again. Shall I have that sad pleasure?” he -asked, eager to escape from the tête-à-tête interview with Cora, now -that he could not tax her at once with her treachery. - -“She asked that you should come to her a while,” Cora answered, and -then added sobbingly: - -“But have you nothing more to say to me, dear Frank, after your long -absence? How cold and careless you seem.” - -“Billing and cooing will wait. Let us go to your aunt now, Cora,” he -answered, rising impatiently. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. “HOW WAS IT THAT LOVE DIED?” - - -“Let us go to your aunt now, Cora,” repeated Frank impatiently, and -though her anger blazed at his coldness, she dared not give rein to it -lest she lose him forever. - -With a deep, quivering sigh she slipped her arm through his, and led -him upstairs to the elegant suite of apartments where her aunt lay -dying. - -In an exquisite apartment furnished with Oriental magnificence, and -sweet with the breath of roses in golden jardinières, while a soft, -pearly light was diffused over everything by burning wax lights, Mrs. -Dalrymple lay faintly breathing on a low, white couch, wrapped in a -rich, white cashmere gown, girdled at the waist by a golden cord, her -long, luxuriant tresses floating loose in ebon blackness over the -pillow. - -When Cora entered the room she led Frank Laurier straight to the couch, -saying gently: - -“Are you asleep, Aunt Verna? Here is Frank come to see you.” - -At these words her eyes opened with a transient gleam of interest, and -her white hand fluttered toward him while she murmured: - -“I am glad to see you, Frank. You were always one of my favorites.” - -He pressed her hand warmly, uttering words of deep sympathy as he sank -into the chair the maid placed for him, then a slight pause ensued. - -Mrs. Dalrymple’s eyes rested on the pair sitting side by side, and she -said, with gentle interest: - -“You have been gone a long time, Frank. Have you had many adventures?” - -“None but the burning of my ship in mid-ocean while returning,” he -replied, causing Cora to exclaim: - -“Good heavens!” - -Then he remembered that his betrothed had told him the doctors said -that something to take Mrs. Dalrymple’s thought from brooding on -herself might prove most beneficial, so he continued: - -“You would find it quite a thrilling story if you were not too ill to -listen to the telling.” - -She sighed softly. “I am a dying woman, Frank. The blight of weariness, -of ennui, of heart loneliness, has fallen on my life, and I am fading -from earth, yet I have still a little human interest left, and it will -not tire me to listen to your story.” - -She had brightened perceptibly, this strange woman who lay there -sinking into death, not of any vital trouble, but merely of morbid -grief and despair that she could not quell. - -So Frank plunged into the story of the _Atlanta’s_ burning, and, seeing -that her eyes rested on him with gentle interest, he told it in most -eloquent fashion, dwelling at length on the beautiful girl he had -rescued. - -The invalid’s eyes brightened with interest, while a faint pink crept -into her waxen cheek, but presently Cora’s jealousy broke bounds, and -she exclaimed sharply. - -“Pray tell us the name of this paragon of beauty--this bewitching -combination of dark eyes, dimples, rosy cheeks, and golden hair!” - -A moment’s hesitation, and he answered frankly: - -“Miss Jessie Lyndon!” - -“Ah-h!” - -The stifled cry came from Mrs. Dalrymple’s suddenly blanched lips, and -her dark eyes closed as if in death. - -“You have killed her!” Cora cried to him angrily, but the maid came -and knelt by her mistress, chafing her cold hands till her eyes opened -again. - -“I beg your pardon,” Frank began contritely, but she smiled faintly, -saying: - -“That name gave me a shock, but I am better now, and I find your story -strangely interesting. Go on--tell me more of Jessie Lyndon.” - -“There is no more to tell, except that I fear her father must, indeed, -have perished in the cruel sea, leaving the poor girl an orphan,” he -replied, wondering at the change that began to come over her, the quick -flush of color to cheeks and lips, the renewed luster of the fading, -eyes. She did not look like a dying woman, now, as she cried feverishly: - -“Tell me all you know of Jessie Lyndon’s father!” - -“Dear Aunt Verna, I fear this excitement must be very bad for you. Let -me take Frank away!” interposed Cora jealously. - -“No, no, I am better--I--I--am interested. Let him stay and tell me -more of this interesting father and daughter,” her aunt faltered, and -with a smoldering flash in her dark eyes, Cora sank back into her -chair, while Frank answered: - -“I know but little more to tell! Leon Lyndon, as he was called, was -a very reticent man, making no friends among the passengers, keeping -coldly aloof with a moody air like a man with a tragic past.” - -“A tragic past! Well, and his looks? Was he dark or fair?” - -“He was fair, with wavy, golden hair, slightly streaked with -gray--dark-blue eyes, and a fair mustache. In his youth he must have -been rarely handsome, but he could not be less than forty now.” - -She cried out tremblingly: - -“The very description of my divorced husband--the man that stole -Darling from me, and broke my heart. And the girl, was she like him, -tell me!” - -Frank Laurier answered excitedly: - -“She was the living picture of the dead Jessie Lyndon--the girl you -buried as your daughter.” - -“Nonsense, Frank----” began Cora rebukingly, but at that moment a maid -appeared at the door, beckoning her away, and saying: - -“There’s a young lady downstairs insisting on seeing Mrs. Dalrymple, -and I told her I would call you.” - -“I will come,” Cora answered quickly, then, looking back at Frank, -“Please do not tell Aunt Verna any more startling stories while I am -gone.” - -She vanished, and Frank looked back at the invalid in whom a startling -improvement had certainly taken place. - -Motioning to the maid for some cordial that stood on the table, she -swallowed it eagerly, then said: - -“Suzanne, you may go into the dressing room within call if I need you.” - -The maid retired, and she turned a piteous gaze on Frank Laurier’s -sympathetic face. - -“Oh, Frank, you have roused me to life again!” she moaned. “This story, -it actually thrills me with hope! Yet--yet--how foolish I am! How could -she be my daughter whose dead face I kissed in the coffin, whom I left -in the old family vault among the dead-and-gone Van Dorns? But, oh, if -I could only see her face! Do you think you can find her and bring her -to me to-morrow?” - -“I will try,” he replied, but he knew it would be no easy task. It -seemed to him that Jessie Lyndon meant to hide herself from him. - -She closed her eyes and lay still for a few moments, her bosom heaving -with excited gasps, the color coming and going on her wasted cheeks. - -Then she clutched his hand with her cold, damp fingers, crying: - -“I cannot die till I have seen this girl who has a face like my dead -child’s, Frank. Frank, I have a feverish fancy--perhaps a dying fancy! -But will you try to gratify it?” - -“Indeed I will,” he replied heartily. - -“Bend closer, let me whisper it--for I shouldn’t like Cora or Suzanne -to hear, and you will not betray me, will you?” - -“Never, I promise you!” - -“It is this: Go early to-morrow to the old family vault at Greenwood, -make the sexton open it, and look in that white casket and see if -Darling is still there, or--if her father has stolen her away and -brought her to life again.” - -It was the strangest fancy he had ever heard, and it made him shudder -to think of that gruesome visit to the old Van Dorn vault, but we can -refuse nothing to the dying. - -“I will do what you wish,” he answered, just in time, for Cora entered -at that moment, visibly nervous, but trying hard to conceal the signs -of a terrible agitation. - -She glanced suspiciously from one to the other, crying: - -“Aunt Verna, how excited you look. I fear you are much worse!” - -“No, Cora, I feel strangely better, as if Frank’s visit had done me -much good.” - -“It has done me much good, too--made me glad and happy! Oh, aunt, I -hope you will get well in time for our wedding next week,” cried Cora, -leaning a trembling hand on her betrothed’s shoulder. - -“Next week!” he cried, with a start of dismay that Cora affected to -misunderstand. - -“Yes, I have arranged to have it next week, for what is the use of -any further delay? We have waited long enough, you and I, for our -happiness, have we not, dear? So everything is ready for our wedding -and flitting next week. And because Aunt Verna is sick it shall be the -quietest sort of a ceremony--no wedding breakfast, nor excitement--just -a few friends for witnesses, and the marriage in my traveling -gown--then the bridal tour. I have even planned that. We will go to -California. Shall you not like that, dear?” - -It made her furious that he grew so deadly pale, that he stammered, -when he tried to answer. She guessed with a sick heart that he would -get out of it all if he could. - -“All for the sake of that hateful girl--that Jessie Lyndon, number two, -who has again come between me and happiness!” she thought bitterly. - -She linked her hands in his arm and drew him away. - -“Aunt Verna is tired now. Come away, and I will let you see her again -to-morrow,” she said coaxingly. - -They went back to the drawing-room, and she sat down by his side on a -velvet fauteuil, still keeping her hands clasped in his arm. - -But he sat by her pale and distrait, no pulse in his being answering to -her blandishments. - -He was thinking, miserably: - -“Next week! Next week! How under heaven can I get out of this -entanglement with honor to myself, and without scandal to Cora?” - -He cried hoarsely, displeasedly, in his uncontrollable misery: - -“Cora, why are you in such a hurry for the wedding?” - -He felt the quick start she gave as she leaned against him, heard the -catch in her breath as she sobbed: - -“Oh, you are cruel! Think how often it has been postponed, and--and--I -thought that you would be as impatient as I am! It--it--was Aunt Verna -who advised it. She said: ‘Do not keep the poor fellow waiting long, -Cora. No matter if I am sick, the marriage must not be postponed again! -You can be married very quietly and go away, and no one will think hard -of you, for you have suffered much and waited long!’ Oh, Frank, you -seem so cold, so indifferent? Do not tell me you love me no more. If -you tore that hope from me I should die here at your feet of my shame -and my despair!” - -No man ever had a tenderer heart than Laurier. - -When he heard those passionate words from Cora’s lips, when he saw the -burning tears in her dark eyes, he felt ashamed and remorseful that he -had let his heart wander from her and fixed it on another. - -“Poor girl, she loves me well, and dare I risk the breaking of my troth -to her? She might be driven to suicide, and her death would lie at my -door,” he thought, in painful indecision that she clearly read with her -keen, feminine intuition. - -She drooped sorrowfully before him, her hands clasped in a mute abandon -of despair, as she continued pathetically: - -“If, indeed, you think I am hurrying up the wedding too much, I can -postpone it again, though it would indeed be evil-omened, a third -postponement. But I wish above all things to please you, my dearest. So -tell me what you wish. Shall it be two weeks hence, or a month?” - -Frank felt like a contemptible wretch and villain, but he also knew she -was weaving a web for him from which he could not escape, in honor. - -“Don’t fret any more, Cora! You need not postpone it a day longer than -you choose. I’m ready any time you are!” - -“Then it shall be next week, as I had planned it, dearest. Must you go -so soon?” as he rose. “Good night”--lifting her face for his careless -kiss. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. STARTLING NEWS. - - -Jessie Lyndon had been strong enough to send her lover from her because -he was bound to another, but she was not brave enough to meet him daily -in the intimate association of her mother’s home as she knew must be -the case if she went to Mrs. Dalrymple’s before the wedding. - -She must see him there daily with Cora, and she knew that her presence -would only make him more unhappy, and hinder the return of his heart to -the girl to whom it was plighted. - -Besides, she knew that she was not brave enough, or strong enough, to -bear the pain of seeing him daily with his betrothed--perhaps to be -compelled by the narrow conventionalities of society to be a guest at -his wedding. - -Fondly as she longed to meet her mother and convey to her the dying -messages of her father, she determined to postpone that meeting till -after Frank and Cora were married and gone. - -Her mind ran over her few humble friends in New York, suggesting the -Widow Doyle as the most available one with whom to stay during the -short interval that must elapse between now and the marriage. In this -secluded suburban cottage she had no fear that Frank Laurier could -trace her even should he make an attempt. - -So to Widow Doyle she went, and was fortunate to find the good woman -at home, receiving a hearty welcome, and most sincere sympathy, when -the sorrowful tale of her father’s loss was told. - -“Poor dear, you will have to stay with me and be my daughter,” she -said, with a tenderness that brought tears to Jessie’s eyes. - -“I will never forget your kindness--but I have a relative to whose care -I shall go shortly. In the meantime, I will accept your hospitality -most gratefully,” she cried, not caring to disclose her relationship to -Mrs. Dalrymple until she should have been accepted as a daughter by the -lady. - -How could she tell but that the proud, rich lady might deny her claim, -might denounce her as an impostor! - -What proof could she offer save her dead father’s word? - -And would that suffice for the proud, rich woman of whom she had -dreamed such beautiful things, but who might not in any way come up to -her ideal mother. - -The future looked very gloomy to Jessie as she sat resting in the -little easy-chair in Mrs. Doyle’s sitting room. - -She realized that unless Mrs. Dalrymple accepted her as a daughter she -would be thrown on the world penniless, and obliged to make her own way. - -She had remembered that her father, by a strange whim, carried the -whole of his fortune, consisting of magnificent uncut gems, in a belt -of leather around his waist. - -But she knew that she had a talent that, if exercised, would provide -her a living. It was her voice, whose power and sweetness equaled -those of the most world famous prima donnas. The professors who had -cultivated that charming voice had told her she could secure a position -on the operatic stage any time she chose. - -But Jessie cared nothing for fame. At the present moment, so young, so -fair, so tender, all that her heart craved was love. - -And the pain of her disappointment took all the zest out of life. - -She spent a quiet, lonely day with her humble hostess, whom she -entertained by a recital of the way she had spent her time since -leaving New York. - -In the evening she grew listless and taciturn, her mind wandering from -this humble abode of the poor widow to the grand mansion on Fifth -Avenue, where her beautiful, stately mother reigned supreme, and where -Cora was now perhaps receiving Frank and renewing their vows of love. - -“Perhaps when he sees her again his heart will turn back to her with -the old love. How could he help it when once he loved her so well? He -will soon forget poor Jessie, and that will be the best,” she thought, -but so inconsistent is love that hot tears welled to her eyes at the -fancy. - -Then Widow Doyle ran in with the evening paper, which she had borrowed -from a neighbor. - -Jessie took it and glanced indifferently at the columns, thinking that -the news of New York had but little interest for a sad heart like her -own. - -But presently she found herself quite mistaken, for her eyes lighted on -a paragraph of vital importance to herself. - -It ran briefly: - - “Mrs. Verna Dalrymple, of No. 1512A Fifth Avenue, continues very ill - with no prospects of recovery. Indeed, her death is hourly expected. - The Four Hundred will thus lose one of its brightest ornaments, and - the poor of the city one of their most charitable benefactors. It is - a source of regret that so brilliant and beneficent a life should be - thus untimely cut down in the prime of beauty and intellect.” - -A cruel pain like a sharp thorn pierced Jessie’s heart as she clutched -the newspaper in her rigid hands, staring at the fatal paragraph with -dilated eyes. - -She could not stay away from her mother as she had planned. She must go -to her at once and receive her dying blessing. - -Stifling back a choking sob, she rose to her feet, exclaiming eagerly: - -“Mrs. Doyle, I have just read in this paper of the serious illness of a -very dear friend of mine on Fifth Avenue. If I could get a cab I would -go to her at once.” - -“There is a cab stand on the next block. I’ll get you one at once.” - -“Thank you--God bless you!” Jessie sobbed, and while the good woman was -gone she slipped on her hat and jacket and stood impatiently waiting, -her heart sinking with fear lest her mother should be dead ere she -reached her side. - -The cab arrived speedily, and Mrs. Doyle asked hospitably: - -“Shall you return, my dear, to-night?” - -“It is not likely, but you shall certainly hear from me to-morrow. -Good night, dear, kind friend,” and with a word of direction to the -chauffeur she was gone. - -While Mrs. Doyle was wondering over Jessie’s sudden departure, there -came a hasty knock on the door, and when she opened it there stood -that black sheep of a stepson of hers that she had not seen for two -years--the redoubtable Carey Doyle. - -Slouching carelessly in, and falling into a seat, he said amiably: - -“How-do, old lady?” - -“Well, Carey, this is certainly a day of surprises, and you’re the -second one that has turned up to-day that I hadn’t seen for two years!” -ejaculated the old lady, in the pleased surprise of one that leads a -quiet, lonely life when confronted with old friends. - -“But where have you been all this time? Never coming near your poor old -stepma for two years?” she added reproachfully. - -“Has it been so long? By Jove, I didn’t think it! But I’ve been hard -down to business, and though I thought of coming often, still I -couldn’t spare the time. But you’ve been getting on all right, have -you?” - -“Yes, I’ve scratched along and kept body and soul together,” she -replied, prudently making the worst of her situation, lest he had come -to borrow money, a shrewd suspicion, for his face fell as he exclaimed: - -“Then you haven’t a hundred dollars or so you could lend a fellow to -help him off to the Klondyke?” - -“Mercy, no! Where would a poor body like me get a hundred dollars, -or even a hundred cents ahead, making a living by her needle?” she -exclaimed, prudently ignoring a little hoard, Leon Lyndon’s gift to -her, that she had laid by for the future “rainy day” that must come to -all the poor in sickness or trouble. - -Doyle looked disappointed and muttered to himself that he was sorry he -had taken the trouble of coming since he couldn’t wheedle any funds out -of the old woman. - -His disappointed gaze roved over the floor and he saw almost at his -feet an exquisitely embroidered handkerchief. Picking it up, he read -aloud the name in the corner: - -“Lisa Chanler!” - -“Why, that must be Miss Lyndon’s handkerchief. She went off in such a -hurry she forgot it--a young girl that was staying with me, you know,” -explanatorily. - -Carey Doyle looked up with quick interest, for the name touched a chord -in memory, and brought back a face that had charmed him with its beauty -and enraged him with its pride. - -He remembered that Jessie Lyndon was dead--that he had heard a strange -story of how she had been found dead in the snow and acknowledged as -the stolen daughter of a grand, rich woman on Fifth Avenue; then he -had put her out of his thoughts and married the pawnbroker’s daughter, -Yetta Stein, leading a cat-and-dog existence, quarreling, till a week -ago, when he had left her, swearing that New York was not large enough -to hold them both, and that he would start to Alaska next day. He meant -what he said, and was raising all the cash he could for the long, -perilous journey. - -But the name of Lyndon still held a charm for him that roused his -curiosity, making him question his stepmother about her guest until she -told all she knew about Jessie, from almost two years ago till now. - -“And only think of being burned up in the middle of the ocean! All -one’s clothes, I mean--and escaping without a rag to one’s back, or a -dollar in one’s purse!” she added vaguely, continuing: - -“That fine handkerchief you see was given her by a Miss Chanler, one of -the passengers--and her other clothes, too, for, as I said, she hadn’t -a rag to her back, poor girl!” - -Carey Doyle was secretly astonished and mystified--Jessie Lyndon dead, -and Jessie Lyndon living, what could it mean? He resolved to come back -to-morrow and see the girl for himself. - - * * * * * - -When the old family physician came next morning to see his patient, he -was surprised to see her so well. - -“Why, how bright you look! You are certainly better,” he cried gladly. - -“I am better, indeed, and it is all owing to such a pleasant visit I -had last evening from an old friend. It was Frank, and you know how -fond I am of him. Cora brought him in to see me, and he entertained -me so pleasantly that I quite forgot I was almost dying. Indeed, I am -almost resolved now to get well,” smiling brightly at him. - -“Capital! Capital! You only need the will to get well, and you will -soon be in your best health again. I have always told you that, you -know, and I am glad Frank has roused you to take an interest in life -again!” he cried, with hearty joy. - -“And he is coming again to-day. I am expecting him any moment!” Mrs. -Dalrymple added, two spots of feverish color brightening her cheeks in -the unrest of her mind. “There, I hear his voice now! No, doctor, do -not go. He will have strange news for me, perhaps, and I may need you -in my excitement. Besides, if it is good news I wish you to hear it.” - -Frank Laurier entered with Cora, and after salutations all around, he -looked anxiously at the patient, whispering: - -“Can you bear the shock of good news?” - -“Oh, Frank, yes, yes--speak quickly--my suspense has been terrible!” -she cried hoarsely. - -And to the amazement of the doctor and Cora, he replied: “I obeyed your -command, and--the casket was empty!” - -A shriek of joy broke on their ears, then Mrs. Dalrymple lay like a -corpse before them, so ashen pale, so deadly still. - -The old doctor with a cry of dismay knelt by her side, and felt for her -heart. - -“Do not tell me that my good news has killed her!” Frank cried with -horror in his dark-blue eyes, while Cora awaited the dénouement in wild -suspense. - -A secret hope came to her that this might be death, that her aunt might -not live to prosecute the search for her hated rival, Jessie Lyndon. - -But presently the old doctor’s efforts at her recovery were rewarded -with success. Her eyes opened, the color came back to her lips, she -faltered: - -“Ah, you thought that I was dead!--but how could I die with such happy -news!” - -“But I do not understand!” the physician replied blankly, while Cora -remained silent from consuming rage. - -“Tell them all, Frank,” commanded Mrs. Dalrymple, with a happy smile, -and he obeyed in a few words. - -“We had reason to suspect that the young girl, Jessie Lyndon, whom -Mrs. Dalrymple buried as her daughter almost two years ago, had been -resurrected and was alive in New York, and--we find that our suspicions -are true.” - -“This is startling!” cried the doctor, but Cora listened silently with -a ghastly face and burning eyes. - -Frank Laurier continued: - -“We know that it is true because I went, by Mrs. Dalrymple’s request, -to her vault in Greenwood this morning, and opened the casket that we -saw closed on the dead face of her daughter. It was empty.” - -“Is it possible?” - -“And,” continued Frank, “as if to prove correct the suspicions of our -friend that her divorced husband had taken away the corpse, I found on -the floor a glove that was marked inside with the name Leon Dalrymple.” - -“Ah, it is true, it is true!” cried the invalid faintly, triumphantly. -“My daughter lives! I shall not die now that I have that happy -knowledge. And you will find her for me, Frank? Every moment is an -hour till my Darling is restored to me!” cried the anxious mother. - -“I will do all that is possible,” he answered, but in her anxiety she -made him promise to insert personals in all the newspapers begging -Jessie Lyndon to come at once to her sick mother, V. D. - -Frank’s first effort was to find the chauffeur who had taken Jessie -away from the steamer, but he was unsuccessful. - -Days came and went with no tidings, and then more personals appeared -offering rewards for news of Jessie Lyndon. - -In the meantime, she had never returned to the Widow Doyle’s humble cot -nor sent any message. - -But Carey Doyle, watching proceedings with a hawk eye, chanced upon the -personals and ejaculated: - -“Come, now, this is very strange. The old lady said she had gone to see -Mrs. Dalrymple, yet apparently she never got there. Is there foul play -anywhere? Maybe I have stumbled on a private Klondyke of my own! I’ll -claim that reward for news of her anyway, but I won’t face Laurier, -I’ll go to Mrs. Dalrymple herself.” - -And so eager was the lady for news that he gained admittance to her -boudoir, where she sat in an easy-chair getting stronger every day, and -claiming the reward, obtained it, and blurted out his news. - -Mrs. Dalrymple was terribly startled. She called out in wild excitement: - -“Send Miss Ellyson to me instantly!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. LOVE REKINDLED. - - -Cora had been listening outside the door, and she darted in now, -exclaiming: - -“I was just coming in when I heard you call for me, dear aunt.” - -She gazed at Carey Doyle as if he had been a perfect stranger, but her -face was ghastly with fear lest he meant also to betray her secret. - -But he flashed her a swift, reassuring look while Mrs. Dalrymple -exclaimed: - -“Only think, Cora, this man has news of Darling. Kindly repeat it to -her, sir.” - -And Carey Doyle, who remembered well the rivalry between Cora and -Jessie, took a malicious pleasure in doing so, gloating over each word -as he saw how ghastly pale and frightened she grew. - -Mrs. Dalrymple was watching her niece, too, and very suddenly she said: - -“While he was telling me this story, Cora, I remembered that on -that same night a servant called you out of my room, saying a young -lady wanted me, and that you must come down. You went, and when -you returned, after a while, you said nothing of the visitor, and -in my agitation I forgot it till just now. Cora, Cora, can it be -possible”--she broke off short, for Cora fell at her feet in wildest -agitation. - -“Oh, Aunt Verna, can you ever forgive me for what I have done? Indeed, -I meant it for the best, but it has turned out to be a terrible -mistake!” - -“Cora, Cora, what have you done?” - -“Forgive me, forgive me; I did wrong.” - -“Do not keep me in suspense, Cora. Answer me, was it my daughter that -came that night?” - -“It was a girl that looked like the one you interred in the old family -vault. She said: ‘I am Jessie Lyndon, the stolen daughter of Mrs. -Dalrymple. I wish to see her if you please!’” - -“My God! And you sent her away?” groaned the agonized mother. - -“Yes, I sent her away, for how could I dream that she was speaking the -truth?” - -“Cora, you should have brought her to me!” wildly. - -“I feared it would kill you in your weak state, for every one thought -you were sinking into death. It seemed to me I was acting very -prudently, and when she was gone I kept the secret, believing it was -for the best.” - -Cora’s acting was superb. Her dark eyes were full of burning tears, and -her whole behavior showed grief and regret. - -Mrs. Dalrymple was completely deceived. She almost pitied Cora. - -“Get up, dear girl, do not weep so bitterly. I will forgive you, for I -know you did what you thought was for the best, though you made a sad -and grievous mistake.” - -She turned her eyes on Carey Doyle as if she had momentarily forgotten -his presence, and exclaimed: - -“Why, have you not seen the chauffeur who brought her here?” - -“I did not neglect that, madam, but he said she paid her fare and -dismissed him, saying she should remain with her friends all night.” - -“Oh, heavens, what a mystery! Where did my Darling go, alone, -penniless, friendless, that gloomy night?” sobbed the mother. - -Carey Doyle watched Cora with a lynx eye, but her perfectly acted -remorse and grief baffled suspicion. - -He rose, and Mrs. Dalrymple said eagerly: - -“Keep up the search for my daughter and you shall be paid well for your -work.” - -“I will do what I can, madam, and I hope you will hear from me again,” -he replied respectfully; then with a malignant look at Cora, he -withdrew from the room and was shown out by a servant. - - * * * * * - -Cora had a difficult rôle to play now, pretending the keenest regret -for her cousin’s disappearance, while at heart she was wildly elated -over it. - -But she was not finding much happiness in her position as bride elect, -though she knew that half the girls in New York would envy her the -honor of becoming the handsome young millionaire’s bride. - -They did not know how she had schemed and sinned for that honor, nor -that the sweets of victory had turned to dead sea fruit upon her lips. - -His short-lived passion was dead, and in spite of his honorable efforts -to disguise his indifference, Cora realized his patient misery, and -knew that the day of their wedding was secretly unwelcome to his heart. - -A nobler woman would have given him his freedom unasked, too proud to -accept the hand without the heart. - -Not so Cora, who recklessly ran every risk for the sake of gratifying -her love and ambition, hurrying on the wedding day in spite of her -aunt’s lingering illness and painful anxiety, and despite the fact that -she knew that secretly Frank resented the unseemly haste. - -Indeed, she had overheard him lamenting it to Mrs. Dalrymple, saying: - -“I fear it looks selfish to you, our marrying and going off in such -haste, leaving you in this trouble.” - -“Do not think of me. Cora is the only one to be considered now. She -feels that she has waited too long for her happiness to have it -postponed longer,” she answered. - -He noticed that she made no reference to his own case, and flushed -slightly, dreading lest she had penetrated the secret of his love for -her missing daughter, and meant to rebuke him for fickleness to Cora. - -He said no more, for Cora entered just then with a downcast face, -having managed to overhear their brief conversation. They were going -for a drive, and presently Mrs. Dalrymple was left alone with her -thoughts. - -They were not pleasant ones, for they veered with painful persistence -between the missing daughter and the dead father. - -In the dear, dead past she had loved him well, and the old love seemed -to wake again, now that he was dead and beyond her tenderness. - - So often since you went away, - I wonder in a vain despair, - If you are sad, if you are glad, - And if you miss me there! - - Do you recall impatient words - Full of life’s jar and pain? - Oh, I would take them back, dear heart, - If you could come again! - -She leaned her beautiful, dark head on her wasted, white hand where the -blue veins showed so clearly, and burning tears flowed down her cheeks. - -Suzanne entered with the afternoon mail on a salver, placed it on a -stand before her mistress, and gently retired. - -Dashing away the unwelcome tears, she began going over the letters, -mostly affectionate missives from her “dear Four Hundred friends,” -expressing affectionate pleasure at her rumored great improvement in -health. - -Dropping them wearily one after the other, she came upon one addressed -in so large a masculine hand that she stared at it in some curiosity. - -Then she saw that it was not addressed to herself, but to Miss Darling -Dalrymple, and was postmarked New York. - -“How very, very strange this is, and how familiar the handwriting -looks!” she cried with a quickened heartthrob, and she decided that in -this case it was her duty to open her daughter’s letter. - -She did so with nervous, fluttering fingers, and then she saw staring -her in the face these words: - - “MY DARLING DAUGHTER: If I had not thought I was destined to perish in - the cruel sea that day, I should never have given you the clew to find - your proud mother who wrecked my life with her relentless scorn. - - “If I had not been sure of death, I never should have intrusted you - with those messages of remorse and forgiveness and love at which she - laughed, perhaps, in her undying resentment against me. I could hope - now that you forgot to tell her, for it might be better so. - - “You are with your mother, no doubt, so I address this letter to her - house. Oh, Jessie, darling, how I blundered when I gave you back to - her! My heart cries out for you, my darling child, the only treasure - I have in the world! I cannot give you up. Will you come back to me, - darling? She has troops of friends, and does not need you, but I have - only my dark-eyed Jessie. - - “If she laughed and mocked at the tender messages I sent her when I - believed I must die, never tell me of it, darling. I cannot bear the - pain. - - “Choose between us, quickly, Jessie, and come to me at once, if you - can, at the Hotel Supremacy. - - “LEON DALRYMPLE.” - -The great, hollow, dark eyes devoured every word with surprise and joy, -for nothing he could say against her mattered much now that she knew he -lived, the man she had loved hopelessly through years of alienation and -separation with the terrible barrier of divorce between their wedded -hearts. - -And no matter how far they had drifted apart, their hearts must share -one common sorrow--the loss of their darling. - -She bowed her head upon the letter, and the wild, hysterical sobs of an -overburdened heart shook her frame. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. HEARTS UNITED. - - -Then she seized a pen and wrote falteringly: - - “Leon, she has never come home to me, so I read your letter, hoping to - find some clew to my lost Darling. - - “I have been seeking her vainly for days, but she is lost to me in - this great, wicked city! - - “There is much to tell, but I am weak and ill, I cannot write more. - Will you come and hear the story from my lips? - - “VERNA.” - -Calling a messenger, she dispatched the note to the Hotel Supremacy, -and waited his reply in the wildest impatience. - -Then she bade Suzanne dress her in a becoming negligee. - -“Make me look as young and as well as possible, for I expect a visit -from an old friend who has not seen me for years--he will be shocked at -the change in me, I know.” - -“Madame is more beautiful still than any young girl--only just a little -too frail looking now from recent illness, but judicious dressing will -disguise much of that,” cried the affectionate maid, applying herself -with ardor to her task. - -And a little later the result fairly justified her prediction. - -The exquisite boudoir in white and gold harmonized well with the -delicately beautiful woman whose pallor was softened by the faint rose -hues of her gown overlaid with rich, creamy laces. Reclining on a -pale-hued divan, with that fitful color coming and going in her cheek, -with a streaming light of expectant joy in her wide, dark eyes, she -was, indeed, a charming picture--one to thrill a man’s heart to the -core. - -“Will he come?” she asked herself in painful uncertainty, as her mind -reverted rapidly over eighteen years to the bleak November day whereon -they had quarreled and parted. - -Oh, how they had loved and hated in a breath, both so young, so hasty, -so inexperienced, that they scarcely knew what a harvest of woe they -were sowing when they turned their backs on each other. - -They had sown, and, alas, they had reaped--and the harvest was a -plenteous crop of tears that tasted bitter on their lips. - - I am tired to-night, and I miss you, - And long for you, love, through tears; - And it seems but to-day that I saw you go-- - You, who have been gone for years. - And I feel as I sit here thinking - That the hand of a dead old June - Has reached out hold of my loose heartstrings, - And is drawing them up in tune. - - I am tired, and that old sorrow - Sweeps down on the bed of my soul, - As a turbulent river might suddenly break - Away from a dam’s control. - It beareth a wreck on its bosom, - A wreck with a snow-white sail, - And the hand on my heartstrings thrums away, - But they only respond with a wail. - -She had taken a daring step--she had called him back whom in anger she -had forsaken years ago. - -Now, she began to be frightened at her own boldness. - -“He will not come, he will laugh me to scorn!” she sighed, and dropped -her pallid face down on her arms. - -She had given her orders that if a gentleman named Dalrymple called he -should be shown to her boudoir at once. - -With her face bowed on her arms, she did not hear footsteps falling on -the thick velvet carpet, obeying the low directions of the servant who -said respectfully, as he drew back the portières: - -“You will find Mrs. Dalrymple there.” - -Leon Dalrymple, tall, pale, handsome still, in spite of years and -sorrow, advanced softly across the room, his heart beating with loud, -suffocating throbs. - -He had been thinking of their parting in the shabby room amid pinching -poverty that she despised, more than eighteen years ago. - -Now they were meeting again, surrounded by all the luxury wealth can -bestow, but how valueless it had been in exchange for what it had cost. - -He saw before him a beautiful form with the dark head bowed on the -folded arms as if in grief, and he stood waiting, hesitating, but she -did not look up at him. - -He coughed, timidly, to arouse her, and exclaimed hoarsely: - -“Ver--Mrs. Dalrymple!” - -A start of surprise, and she lifted her pale, excited face, and saw -him standing before her--her old love, her discarded husband--older, -graver, sadder by eighteen long years. - -Yet her heart leaped to meet him in a great, strangling sob of joy. - -Without rising from her recumbent position she held out her hand, -saying faintly: - -“You will pardon my not rising. I have been ill--am yet weak.” - -He advanced, and touched the cold hand with his own that was quite as -cold--dropped it quickly, and took the seat she indicated close by her -divan. - -Controlling his emotions as well as he could, he began: - -“Your letter filled me with alarm. What can have happened to my -daughter?” - -“Our daughter,” she said, gently correcting him, with a sad smile, -adding: “It was very bold in me to send for you, Leon, but I thought -that in this matter we might act together.” - -“Leon”--she called him Leon as of old--and it made the blood rush to -his face, and his whole frame tremble with agitation, the old love -rising in him like a flood. - -He answered gravely: - -“This is very kind in you.” - -And for a moment they were very silent, the novelty of the position -bearing painfully on both their hearts--“so near and yet so far.” - -Little by little they gained self-possession and talked seriously on -the subject so near to their hearts--the mysterious disappearance of -their daughter from the hour when she had been turned away from her -mother’s house by Cora. - -She told him all she knew, and he could not conceal his alarm. - -“It is the strangest thing in the world that she did not return to Mrs. -Doyle, the only friend she had in New York!” he exclaimed. - -The tortured mother bowed her head and wept. - -Then Leon Dalrymple’s heart was melted with sympathy, and he cried: - -“Do not weep so bitterly, Verna, I will find her for you if it is in -the power of man to do it. And--and--I will never try to take her from -you again. Let my heart bear all the pangs of loss and loneliness!” - -“You have not told me yet how you brought Darling to life!” she -suggested, with a grateful glance. - -Then he had to go over the whole story, and she listened with the -closest attention. - -Their interview had now lasted more than an hour, and the ice between -them was gradually thawing. The dark and the blue eyes looked very -kindly at each other, and they were Leon and Verna again in their -speech. - -She opened the letter, and said daringly, encouraged by his kindness: - -“I am very curious over some things you said in this letter to Darling. -It seems you sent me some messages of remorse, forgiveness, and love -when you thought you were about to perish. Will you tell me what they -were?” - -His face flushed with emotion, but he faltered nervously: - -“They would not be welcome to you, Verna.” - -To his delight she replied, with swimming eyes. - -“My heart has been hungry for such words these eighteen years, -Leon--hungry for the love that I threw away in my blindness--hungry for -forgiveness that I dared not ask because I feared denial!” - -“My darling!” and he was on his knees by her side, his arms opening to -draw her back to her old shelter against his heart. - -Gladly the dark head nestled there and in an hour all was explained and -forgiven between them while hope came back to nestle in their hearts. - -“We can be married again on the same day as Frank and Cora,” Mrs. -Dalrymple exclaimed happily. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. DEEDS OF KINDNESS. - - -When Dalrymple tore himself away at last to prosecute the search for -his daughter, it occurred to him to seek her at the home of Mrs. -Godfrey, the aunt of his little nephews, Willie and Mark. - -It was a great disappointment to him that she had heard nothing of -Jessie, but after all he had hardly expected it. A forlorn hope had led -him there, coupled with the desire to see his little nephews. - -When the little lads were led in to him their chief interest in their -new-found uncle was that he was the father of their loved Cousin -Jessie. They plied him with anxious questions about her, to which he -could only answer sadly that she had gone away for a while, but he -hoped she would come back soon. - -His first thought was for Mrs. Godfrey, whose care of his nephews he -felt was deserving of a fair reward, so he presented her with a check -for a thousand dollars. - -The poor, toil-worn soul was overwhelmed with surprise and joy. - -The sum represented a fortune in her eyes, to which the grateful tears -rushed in torrents. - -“Oh, I can never thank you enough! This will be like riches to my poor -sister and me! She can have the comforts that an incurably sick woman -needs now, thanks to your generosity! But I feel I don’t deserve it, -when I remember how I had to send sweet Jessie away to earn her own -living!” - -“Do not worry over that, because it could not be helped. You did more -than you were able, taking the little boys on your hands. I shall take -care of them now and put them to school.” - -“They were welcome to all I could do, poor little ones, and I love them -dearly as the children of my dead brother and his sweet wife, but I -am glad you can take care of them, and bring them up to be something -in the great world,” she replied, with honest pride in her brother’s -children. - -“I will do my best,” he replied, bowing himself out, after promising to -return in a day or two and make arrangements for taking Mark and Willie -away. - -Then so eager was he for another sight of Verna, that he must needs -call again and tell her about his nephews and ask her advice about -their future. - -“I believe I neglected to tell you that I am fairly rich myself and can -afford to do well by the boys without wronging you or Jessie,” he added. - -To his surprise and delight she replied: - -“I am almost sorry you are rich, Leon, for I would like to show you -how generous I could be with these little ones, but they shall be my -nephews as well as yours, and I insist on your bringing them here -to-morrow to make their home with us.” - -“My dearest, you do not understand how troublesome two growing boys -could be. Your patience would very soon be exhausted.” - -“No, indeed, Leon, for the patter of children’s feet and the sound of -their happy voices would be like music in this great, lonely mansion. -Here we could care for them like our own children, and how happy it -would make our daughter when she comes home to find her loved little -cousins with us. Let me have my way in this, Leon, if you can feel -satisfied with the arrangements.” - -“Satisfied, my own love? Why, it will, indeed, be a boon to me for -which I shall feel grateful to you till my dying day,” he declared with -fervor. - -And thus it happened that on the very next day Mark and Willie Lyndon -were removed from the dreary abode of poverty to their new palatial -home. - -But the secret rage of Cora Ellyson at the turn affairs were taking can -better be imagined than described. - -She had never felt a spark of real love for Mrs. Dalrymple, and had -contemplated her impending death with inward satisfaction, expecting to -inherit all her money, and rule royally in the social world by reason -of it. - -It was a bitter blow when her aunt came back from the gates of death -and began to convalesce, but she reasoned to herself: - -“It is only a temporary improvement in health, for when her daughter’s -fate continues to be unknown she will relapse into a worse stage than -at first, and die of disappointment.” - -But when Mrs. Dalrymple confided to her the new turn affairs had taken, -she could scarcely conceal her rage. - -“You are going to remarry your divorced husband--the man you deserted -of your own will, Aunt Verna, and pretended to hate and despise all -these years--Impossible!” she exclaimed remonstratingly. - -Mrs. Dalrymple’s dark head instantly crested itself with the pride Cora -knew so well, and she dared not find further fault. - -So Cora, repulsed, could only vent her rage in secret, and bitter -enough it was, though mixed with one sweet drop of triumph in the -thought that never again would their eyes rest on Jessie’s sweet face. - -“Let them search and search, but never again will their eyes be -gladdened by her return. Let them go on believing that Cora Ellyson is -sorry she sent her into exile that night. Ha, ha!” and a laugh that was -fiendish in its cruel triumph rang out upon the stillness of the room. -She was in a retrospective mood, and as she shook loose the braids of -dark hair over her shoulder, she gazed fixedly at her pallid face in -the long mirror, muttering: - -“Yet Frank Laurier doesn’t love me. How mortifying to marry a man who -shrinks from one with secret aversion! Yet I will not turn back. I will -marry him if only to punish him for his perfidy! And if he withholds -love then he shall feel to the core of his heart what it is to trample -on a woman’s love!” - -Stung to fury by the indifference he could not hide, Cora was filled -with the venom of “a woman scorned.” - - I will teach him to play with a rattlesnake’s tongue, - I will teach him the tiger to rob of its young, - I will teach him ’twere better a man were unborn - If the love of a proud-hearted woman he scorn. - -The next day, after fitting out his manly little nephews in handsome -new clothing, Leon Dalrymple took them to their future home, where they -met a cordial welcome from the woman who was soon to be their uncle’s -wife again. - -But not so with Cora, who watched their movements with angry eyes. - -To the little boys, fresh from the tiny cot of poverty, the great house -on Fifth Avenue was a wonderful Aladdin’s palace. - -They gazed about them in round-eyed wonder, and as soon as the first -sense of being company was over and they were left somewhat to their -own devices, they began to explore the house, peeping into room after -room with childish curiosity, mounting stairway after stairway, and -wandering along broad, dark corridors, until they could not find their -way back to the lower rooms where they had been left by Mrs. Dalrymple. - -“I’m losted,” sobbed Willie, the six-year-old, digging his little fists -into his tearful blue eyes. - -“So am I,” cried Mark, who was older and more manly; “but don’t cry! -Here’s another door! Let’s peep in here!” seizing the knob, and shaking -it vigorously. But the lock refused to yield, and very suddenly he was -caught by Cora Ellyson, who slapped his face till his ears tingled with -pain. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. HAPPINESS SUPREME. - - -Cora’s eyes flashed, her lips and face went ashen white, her form -trembled with passion, as, catching the boys by their shoulders, she -shook both violently, screaming: - -“You little meddlesome wretches, how dare you sneak around this way, -poking your noses into things that are none of your business! Go away, -and if I ever find either one of you up in this hall again, I will kill -you both!” - -The elder boy shook himself loose from her angry grasp and tried to -rescue Willie, saying tearfully: - -“We didn’t mean no harm, ma’am.” - -“Well, keep away from the servants’ hall, hereafter. Go downstairs -now, and never come up here any more, and mind you never tell any one -I slapped you and shook you just now. If you do I will shut you up in -jail to stay forever!” menaced Cora, with flashing eyes. - -The boys started to go down obediently, Willie hushing his low sobs in -sheer terror, then Cora flew back to the locked door, opened it with a -key that she took from a little concealed recess, beneath a small rug -that lay before the door. - -She did not dream that the curious Mark had darted back to the head of -the stairway, and was closely watching her movements. - -He put his arm around Willie, whispering excitedly: - -“She has unlocked that room and gone and shut herself up in it, the -mean, spiteful thing! Do you know I believe she has got something shut -up in there.” - -“I hate her, and I’m going to tell aunt on her!” came the sobbed reply. - -“No, don’t say nothin’, but let’s watch our chance to get even with the -mean thing by seeing into that locked door. I seen where she got the -key!” consoled Mark, whose curiosity was a predominating trait. - -“Yes,” muttered Willie, hopes of vengeance rising in his mind. “We’ll -get in that room and see what ’tis she’s hiding.” - -Then they pattered downstairs again and no one was the wiser for the -little scene that had passed upstairs in the corridor. - -Cora remained in the locked room only a few minutes, and on leaving it -she again turned the key and slipped it in its place, then sped along -the corridor and down the stairs again to her own rooms with an evil -light in her dark, down-cast eyes that boded no good to any one who -crossed the path of her desires. - -The two boys waited and watched for an opportunity to get up into the -servants’ hall again, but such a close vigil did Cora keep that they -were unable to do so. - -At last the wedding day arrived when Cora and Frank, and Mrs. Dalrymple -and her divorced husband, were to be made one. - -On the morning of this day the two brides were very busy, each in her -own apartments were being robed by their respective maids for the -noon ceremony--Cora in a handsome traveling gown and hat to go away -immediately, and her aunt in a dainty confection of blue brocade and -rich lace for an informal luncheon with the few wedding guests. - -Love and hope beat high in the breasts of both--the girl who had played -such high stakes to gain a man’s heart, the woman who had never known -the value of love till it was lost and found again. - -The drawing-room and corridors were gracefully but not too lavishly -decorated for the ceremony with stately palms and rich roses, whose -fragrance filled the air with sweetness. - -Little Mark and Willie were not watched so closely, and roved hither -and thither about the great house, whispering to each other, and, truth -to tell, feeling almost too grand in the fine suits of velvet with rich -lace collars that had been put upon them to grace the occasion. Being -left somewhat to their own devices in the prevailing excitement, they -naturally turned at once to the locked room on the upper floor. - -“We must do it now or never, because she is going off with that Mr. -Laurier as soon as she is married, to stay a long while,” said Mark. - -“Yes, we must. Let’s go now.” And they stole unseen upstairs and Mark -soon found the key beneath the rug. But it was so large, and the lock -so strong that when they got it in they could not turn it. - -“Put your ear to the keyhole and listen. Don’t you hear something?” -said Mark. - -“Yes--sounds like a little kitty cryin’; pore li’l sing!” whimpered -Willie. - -It lacked only fifteen minutes to the ceremony now. The two bridegrooms -with the guests and the bishop had arrived and were waiting -downstairs. Everything was in readiness for the hour. - -The few wedding guests whispered to each other when Cora entered that -she was the palest, most frightened-looking bride they had ever seen. -What was it that could be preying upon her mind upon such an occasion -as this? - -But, they added kindly enough, that it was no wonder, for after her two -former fateful wedding days who could blame her for being nervous and -apprehensive of disaster. - -She came in quietly enough, with downcast eyes, with her aunt, for the -wedding was to be quite informal, the ceremony being performed first -for the elder couple. - -Frank Laurier was there looking quite as pale and troubled as his -bride, but again the guests excused his perturbation, whispering: - -“He is afraid something is going to happen.” - -A sort of undefined dread of evil pervaded the air. - -The bishop arose and opened his book as the elder couple moved in -front of him, and the happiness on those two fine faces, the chastened -happiness of reunion after long grief and pain--almost dissipated the -lowering cloud of presentiment over every spirit. - -Brief questions were asked, clear responses made, and the ring slipped -over the bride’s slender finger, token of a union never to be broken -“until death do us part.” - -Kisses, congratulations, tears, and smiles, for the happy pair, then -they moved aside for the others with a prayer in their hearts that -these two might not sail forth upon such stormy seas of matrimonial -disaster as they had done in ignorant youth. - -None had noticed in the excitement of the congratulations that three -more guests had arrived--three men who had bribed the servants to let -them look on at the scene from behind the tall palms at the open door -of the drawing-room. - -Pale, grave, silent, these three men watched the scene with eager eyes, -as Frank and Cora stood side by side breathing the words that bound -their lives in one forever. - -Suddenly one gasped and started wildly forward as the minister repeated -mechanically the customary warning, for any one who knew any impediment -to the marriage to speak now or forever after hold his peace. - -This man, tall, pale, with a sinister scar on his brow, and a painful -limp, crossed the room as swiftly as his infirmity would permit, and -thundered: - -“I forbid the marriage. She is my wife!” - -The bishop dropped his prayer book in amazement, and with startled -cries, all faced around upon the newcomer. - -Cries of doubtful recognition shrilled over every lip: - -“Ernest Noel!” - -Cora clung with frantic hands to Frank’s arm, gazing with horrified -eyes at the daring intruder. - -There stood Ernest Noel in the flesh, though his good looks were marred -by a scar on his cheek and a decided limp received in some accident. -Over one of his shoulders peered the grave, noble face of the minister -who had married them in the mock marriage that had turned out a real -one, and over the other she saw, like a grinning fiend’s, Carey Doyle’s -with an ugly sneer on the mustached lips. - -She was dizzy and her brain reeled. She felt like a weak swimmer in a -strong sea swept away by the relentless and treacherous undertow. - -In the momentary silence that followed their cries of recognition, -Ernest Noel continued earnestly: - -“This lady is my wife, but I do not charge her with attempted bigamy. -She believed me dead.” - -“Explain!” thundered Frank Laurier, thrilled with chivalrous pity for -the drooping figure that clutched his arm with frantic hands. - -Ernest Noel bowed gravely, and said: - -“Two years ago I was frantic with love for Miss Ellyson and tried to -win her from you, Frank Laurier. We two were the principals in a mock -marriage at some charitable affair, and in my desperation I made the -ceremony a real one, taking out the necessary license and securing -a young minister, Mr. Kincaid, to officiate. Some time afterward I -ventured to confess to my bride the imposition I had practiced on her -and was met by such indignant reproaches that I was driven to--suicide! - -“Disappointed in my love, I sprang into a deep pit to end my life, but -the fall did not kill me. I lingered on in agony till the next day, -when this man with me, Carey Doyle, discovered and rescued me from my -perilous situation, taking me to the home of some country friends of -his, where I was cared for many months ere fully restored to myself. - -“It was rumored that I had mysteriously disappeared, and the report -of my suicide was accepted as correct. Carey Doyle, for the sake of a -whim, kept the secret of my identity, and so for many months I remained -as one dead to the world that formerly knew me; while regaining my -consciousness at last I learned that Cora had been almost fatally -burned and would be the inmate of a hospital perhaps for years. -In despair I forswore all former associations, and no one but the -executors of my property were informed of my continued existence, while -I brooded miserably over my faults and the wreck I had made of my own -life, my selfish passion and reckless folly. I determined never to -return to the world, but this morning Carey Doyle came to tell me that -I must save Cora from bigamy by forbidding her contemplated marriage -with another.” - -Cora and Doyle at that moment exchanged malevolent glances, and she -understood all. - -In the beginning the wretch had concealed the fact of Noel’s continued -existence that he might more effectually pursue his scheme of blackmail. - -But again she looked from his taunting face back to the grave, sad face -of Noel, who now added: - -“I am here to say to Cora and you all, that my marriage to her was -perfectly legal as far as church and State could make it. I love her -still in spite of everything, and if she will forgive me the wrong I -did in making her my wife against her will, and wishes to go with me, -I on my part will forgive any harm she ever did me and gladly take her -to my heart. On the other hand, if she prefers to secure a divorce and -marry Laurier, I will make no fight against it. Her will shall be my -law!” - -It was a most noble rôle the man was playing in concealing Cora’s sins -and taking them all on his own broad shoulders. - -He had bought Carey Doyle’s silence, and was prepared to keep Cora’s -secret forever from the world in atonement for the one great wrong he -had done her--the wrong to which she had tempted him by her heartless -coquetry. - -Forgiving all her sins by the strength of his love he hoped to win her -yet from Laurier, and awaited her answer with burning impatience. - -But she clung all the closer to Frank, though she could read by his -face that he thought she ought to turn to Noel. - -She was opening her lips to cry out passionately that she loved only -Laurier and would sue for a divorce, when Mark and Willie Lyndon rushed -upon the scene, panting and excited, crying breathlessly: - -“Oh, Uncle Leon, Aunt Verna, come with us! We have found our dear -Cousin Jessie at last, but she is dead!” - -Like a flash in the confusion of that startling announcement, Cora -dropped Frank’s arm and flew to Noel’s side: - -Her face was ghastly as she breathed in his ear: - -“Come, Ernest, the machine is waiting! Let us fly! Fly to the other end -of the world!” - -Half dazed with the suddenness of the turn things were taking, he -followed her lead, and while the others rushed upstairs, he and Cora -sprang into the limousine and were driven to the railway station. - -The secret of the locked room was no longer a secret. - -A score of people followed the eager footsteps of the little lads -upstairs to the sad sight they had encountered on opening the door. - -There lay sweet Jessie, wan, pale, terribly emaciated, and still as -death on the low couch--a sight that brought cries of grief and horror -from women’s lips, and tears to the eyes of men. - -Fortunately the old family physician was in the company. - -It looked like death, but he would not pronounce it so. He remembered -what a terrible mistake he had made over Jessie before. - -He knelt by her side, doing all he could to restore life, and all the -while he was inwardly praying: - -“God help me! Give back her beautiful life to us!” - -And all the time the anguished mother and father, the distracted lover, -the interested friends, were echoing the prayer in their hearts. - -Oh, what joy thrilled their hearts when the doctor found a faint little -sign of life, but what long and skillful nursing it took before Jessie -was well again, or even strong enough to tell the story of Cora’s -satanic cruelty! - -But they were happy days when she was convalescing with so many dear -ones by her side--her reunited parents, her precious little cousins, -and last but not least, her devoted lover, Frank Laurier. - -They did not hide their love from each other now, they could talk of -the past without embarrassment, and once when Darling Jessie, as they -called her now, scolded him for that first stolen kiss, he retorted by -telling her of that second kiss upon the sea that had seemingly brought -her back to life. - -They had many things to tell her, but the story that interested her -most of all was of her own apparent death and her interment in the old -family vault. - -She knew now that it was no dream, the memories she had cherished of -her mother’s sorrow over her coffin, and Frank Laurier’s words of -passionate love and grief. She would cherish them deep in her heart -forever. - -As for Mark and Willie, they received the most idolatrous love from all. - -“It was so noble in you, Verna, to take them to our own home so -generously that I was always thinking what I could do to reward you for -your goodness, but, lo! God paid the debt of gratitude by making the -little lads the saviors of our own daughter,” the fond husband cried, -with deep emotion. - -In the following spring Ernest Noel wrote to Mrs. Dalrymple telling her -of Cora’s death at his villa in Italy. - -Shortly after the announcement of this sad news Frank Laurier and the -girl he loved were united in the holy bands of matrimony. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. IRIS AND ISABEL. - - -“What do you mean by disobeying my orders? Didn’t I tell you I would -see no one to-night? How dare you take it upon yourself to act contrary -to my wishes?” - -Peter, the servant, to whom these angry, impatient words were -addressed, stood meekly in the doorway of his master’s library, half in -and half out of the room, waiting for Mr. Oscar Hilton’s loud voice to -cease before venturing to explain his reason for thus intruding on the -latter’s privacy. - -“Please, sir, I didn’t forget your orders, but if you’ll remember, sir, -you told me only yesterday never to deny you to Mr. St. John----” - -As Peter uttered this name Oscar Hilton’s face, which had been -haggard and pale as if some deep sorrow weighed upon him, brightened -wonderfully, and his voice lost its angry tone. - -“You are right, Peter; say to Mr. St. John that I will see him here, -and----” - -At this moment Peter drew himself back from the doorway, and a young -girl entered the room--a petite and fairylike creature, looking even -younger than her eighteen years, with eyes of that peculiar blue that -darkens into purple, a complexion clear and fair as the lotus leaf, -and hair of a deep reddish brown that shone like dull gold in the soft -shaded light. - -She was dressed richly, as became the daughter of Oscar Hilton--who -was supposed to be one of the richest men in New York. But that -gentleman’s face betrayed neither admiration nor love as she advanced -into the room and stood before him. - -“We are ready for Mrs. Laurier’s reception, papa, and I wanted you to -see my costume for the occasion before Isabel came to you, because -I knew how my poor little self will fade into insignificance and be -totally eclipsed by the superior beauty of my queenly sister--but what -is the matter? Papa, you look pale and tired. Shall I stay at home and -read for you? Indeed, I do not care about the party--do let me stay -with you, papa.” - -The girl’s sweet voice--at first full of playfulness and merriment--had -grown tender and earnest with the utterance of the last words, and she -came toward her father with hands extended as if to embrace him; but -Oscar Hilton repulsed her almost rudely. - -“Go to the reception by all means, Iris, and don’t be so silly and -childish. I am expecting a visitor just now, and cannot be bothered. -Say to Isabel that I will see her when she comes back from Mrs. -Laurier’s. I have writing to do to-night, and shall not have retired.” - -Iris Hilton bowed, and turned from her father without a word, but the -sweet, girlish face had lost all its look of brightness, and the pretty -lips quivered piteously while she went to do his bidding. - -Mr. Hilton seemed to breathe more freely when she was gone, and it -would have been hard to fathom the expression of his eyes as he -followed the graceful little figure in its retreat from the room, -muttering below his breath: - -“Her ‘queenly sister,’ she called my dark-eyed Isabel. Ah, God! how -easily I could bear the ruin that threatens me, and the disgrace that -must inevitably follow, if my Isabel were provided for, my proud, -imperious darling.” - -Mr. Hilton’s meditations were here interrupted by the entrance of his -visitor, Mr. Chester St. John, a handsome, distinguished-looking man -of thirty years, whose easy, graceful bearing and cultured manner -proclaimed him at once a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. - -Mr. Hilton received him with every token of welcome, and St. John -entered at once into the object of his visit. - -“I think you must have guessed long ago, Mr. Hilton,” he said, when -cozily seated with that gentleman before a bright grate fire in the -luxuriously furnished library, “that I love your beautiful daughter -with all my heart. I have not spoken to her of this love, as yet, but -I think--I have dared to hope, that she reciprocates my feeling, and I -only await your permission to ask her to make me the happiest of men.” - -St. John paused here, waiting for Mr. Hilton’s answer. - -It was so long before the latter made any reply to Chester’s proposal -that the young man began to fear he had received it unfavorably. - -“Is it possible that you have other views for your daughter, Mr. -Hilton?” he asked, somewhat proudly, but with a tremor of real anxiety -in his deep-toned voice. - -“No, no, my dear boy, you are the one man of all others to whom I could -think for a moment of giving my precious child. I feel--nay! I know -that you are worthy of her, and I will not stand between her and her -love.” - -“Thanks, my dear sir, and I assure you you shall never have cause to -regret the confidence you have placed in me. It shall be the labor of -my life to make Iris happy----” - -“Iris!” - -At Chester St. John’s mention of this name Oscar Hilton sprang to his -feet, with every trace of color dying out of his face, and his hands -pressed tightly to his heart. - -“Iris!” he again ejaculated hoarsely; but when Chester sprang to his -side in alarm he waved him back authoritatively. “It is nothing,” he -cried, with quick, gasping breaths, “I am subject to these sudden -spasms of pain--around my heart--and it is so natural for me to call -on--Iris--there! it is over now, but I would like to be alone. Come -to-morrow, St. John, and Iris will give you her answer.” - -Chester was not in the least offended by this abrupt dismissal, having -no suspicion that the pain of which Mr. Hilton had complained was -purely imaginary, and that there was a deeper cause for that ashen, -pale face and those trembling hands. - -He bade Iris’ father good night with many expressions of regret, -promising to call for Iris’ answer on the morrow, and taking his -departure at last with such a look of hope upon his face that one might -have guessed what he expected the girl’s answer to be. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. THE OUTCAST. - - -“Iris! Iris! My God, have I killed her?” - -The words came from the lips of Oscar Hilton with a cry of unutterable -fear, as he bent over the rigid and senseless form of his young -daughter, on the morning following his interview with Chester St. John. - -“I have killed her!” the man reiterated; but even as he lifted the -girl’s head from the floor, her lips trembled slightly, and the lids -were lifted slowly from the beautiful blue eyes that looked purple now, -as Iris awakened to the consciousness of a sorrow tenfold more bitter -than death. - -“It cannot--oh, it cannot be true!” she moaned, drawing herself away -from the touch of his hands with an irrepressible shudder. - -“You say that Chester St. John loves me, and will ask me to be his -wife, and I--loving him with every pulse of my heart--must give him -up. Nay! more--that I must tell him I have no love for him--must send -him from me with the bitter thought that I am a false and heartless -coquette. No! no! Oh, dear Heaven! I can do anything but that.” - -Oscar Hilton had been terrified when it seemed to him that Iris lay -dead at his feet, but at the moment when her voice fell again upon his -ear, his voice grew stern and cold, and he spoke to her now with a -sneer. - -“Do you think Chester St. John would ask you to be his wife if he knew -the true story of your life? He is very proud of his fine old name; do -you think he would care to give it to the child of a----” - -The word he would have spoken died on his lips unuttered, for Iris had -lifted her eyes quickly to his own, with an intangible something in -their expression that daunted him. - -“You have told me the story of my parentage, Mr. Hilton, and if you -have any claim to the title of a gentleman, you will not insult my -helplessness by repeating the epithet you were about to apply to me. -When you married my father’s divorced wife, and took her to be a mother -to your daughter Isabel, why did you allow her to rear me--that man’s -offspring--as one entitled to your name, to crush me at this late day -with a knowledge of the truth. It has pained me always to notice your -coldness toward me, in contrast to your passionate love for Isabel; but -I--I never suspected this. Oh, how could my own mother deceive me so?” - -“I should never have told you the truth, Iris, but for this affair with -St. John. I have treated you always as my own child, and denied you no -luxury that Isabel herself has enjoyed. If I now demand a sacrifice at -your hands, I think I have a right to expect that you will grant what -I ask. At a word from me your mother would have given you, an infant -of two years, into an asylum, sixteen years ago. I saved you from such -a fate, and all I ask in return is that you will cure Chester St. John -of his infatuation for your pretty, childish face. It is nothing more -than infatuation, for before your return from school he was devoted to -Isabel; and, Iris, I will tell you this in strict confidence: unless -my daughter makes an advantageous marriage very soon, I shall be a -ruined man. Think what this word ruin means, not only to Isabel, but to -your invalid mother, whose love of ease and luxury is part of her very -life. Make St. John believe that you have no love for him, and all will -be well, I know. The secret I have revealed to you to-day shall never -again pass my lips, and----” - -“Let me speak!” interrupted Iris, with quick, panting breaths. “I have -no other way of paying you for what you have done for me, and I--I will -do what you ask. But when I have sent Chester St. John from me I shall -leave your home forever. I will never pass another night beneath your -roof.” - -A low knock on the door at this moment interrupted the girl’s brave -words, and Peter entered, to announce that Mr. St. John was waiting in -the parlor to see Miss Iris. - -“So soon! Oh, how shall I meet him?” exclaimed Iris, with such a -passionate cry of pain that Mr. Hilton feared her resolution would fail -at the last, and, starting toward her, attempted to take one of her -hands in his own. - -“Iris, do not forget,” he began, but she drew herself shudderingly away -from him, saying, as she moved slowly toward the door: - -“I shall not forget the debt I owe you; I am going to pay it now--to -pay it in full.” - -There was no tremor in the low, sweet voice as she spoke these words, -but her face, turned for a moment toward him as she crossed the -threshold, was so pitifully white and hopeless that a momentary thrill -of compassion stirred Oscar Hilton’s heart, and he muttered to himself -as he listened to the sound of her footsteps descending the stairs: - -“Pshaw! she does not mean all that nonsense. I would never let her do -that, but she shall not stand in my Isabel’s light. Ah, my daughter! I -was thinking of you; was I speaking my thoughts aloud?” - -He had spoken the last words audibly, just as the object of his -thoughts entered the room. - -“What is the matter, papa? I just passed Iris in the hall, looking like -a ghost, and came in here to find you raving about somebody standing -in my light. Tell me what it is all about, please; I hate anything -approaching a mystery.” - -Isabel spoke in the cold, imperious tones that were peculiar to her, -but her father answered her almost humbly: - -“There is no mystery, my darling; do not distress yourself. Don’t go -yet, Isabel, I want to talk with you. You have not told me how you -enjoyed yourself at Mrs. Laurier’s last night. Were there many there? -Was Mr. St. John among the guests at any time during the evening?” - -The last question was asked so earnestly that Isabel showed her white -teeth in a laugh. - -“You are always so anxious about Chester St. John, papa; I think you -have set your heart upon having him for a son-in-law; is it not so, -_mon père_?” - -Mr. Hilton answered his daughter gravely: - -“I would like it of all things, Isabel; I should like to see you -Chester St. John’s wife.” - -Isabel’s dark, handsome face flushed, and she spoke somewhat bitterly: - -“I would consent to be his wife if he asked me, papa, because he is -the richest man I know, and the handsomest; but I do not like him. I -think him proud, scornful, and sarcastic; and if the day ever comes -when I--but I must not make idle threats; take comfort in the thought, -my father, your dutiful daughter will employ every art in her power to -bring Chester St. John to her feet.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. A CRUEL ORDEAL. - - -Chester St. John, waiting rather impatiently for the appearance of Iris -in the parlor, came forward with warm words of greeting to meet the -little white-robed figure, when the girl at last made her appearance, -failing, in the semidarkness of the room, to notice the unusual pallor -of her face, or the strange constraint of her manner. - -“Iris!” - -He could only speak the two soft, sweet syllables of her name, thinking -how well it suited her--Iris--like a rainbow, always bright. - -He tried to take her hands in his own, for--although he had as yet -made no actual declaration of his love, he knew he had shown her in -many ways how dear she was to him, and if he was not mistaken in the -language of her sweet, beautiful eyes, he felt equally confident that -his love was returned. - -It was not until her hand lay in his own, and he felt it cold as ice in -his clasp, that he took the alarm. - -“Iris, my beloved! You know why I have come to you this morning; your -father has told you----” he began, and then--drawing her closely in -his arms he looked intently in her face, uttering a low cry of alarm -at sight of the white, changed countenance. “Iris! Oh, my love, what -is it? What pain or sorrow has come to you?” he exclaimed, bending his -lips to hers, while for one moment she lay white and passive in his -embrace. “Speak to me, my little one! My wife!” he ejaculated. But -at the sound of those words, “My wife!” Iris drew herself out of his -embrace, shivering from head to foot, and covering her ears to shut out -the sound of the voice whose every accent was sweeter than any earthly -music to her. - -“You must not talk to me so. You have no right to address me in such -terms,” she said in a voice that sounded cold and feelingless from -the very effort she was making to control her emotion. “I cannot be -your wife, Mr. St. John. I--I do not love you. You have been mistaken; -please do not distress me by repeating your offer.” - -It was such a cold and careless rejection that Chester St. John could -not at first believe the evidence of his own ears. - -What transpired during the next few minutes Iris could never clearly -recall. She had a vague memory of hearing a voice that bore no -resemblance to the clear tones of Chester St. John, upbraiding her -in bitter, heartbreaking terms for making his life desolate, and -destroying his faith in his mother’s sex. - -She seemed to feel for days and weeks afterward the close, almost -cruel, pressure of his hand as he held her fingers for one moment in -parting; after which it had seemed to her that the earth grew suddenly -dark and cold as the grave, and for the second time, since listening to -Oscar Hilton’s story in the library, she had fallen like one dead. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. ENTERING ON THE NEW LIFE. - - -“Jenny, how much longer must you work to-night? It is so tiresome, -lying here alone, with no one to speak to me; won’t you put aside your -sewing, dear, and read for me?” - -It was a woman’s voice, weak and fretful, that uttered these words, and -the person to whom they were addressed, a pale, weary-looking girl of -twenty years, put aside the handsome silk robe upon which she had been -sewing, and came to the bedside of the invalid. - -“I must work a little longer, mother, dear,” she said softly. “Miss -Hilton will be so angry about her dress; you know I promised it for -last night, and failed to have it done, because of that unfortunate -headache; but what is the matter, mother--are you feeling worse? Oh, my -mother! I seem to see you failing, hour by hour.” - -Jenny had broken into a passionate fit of weeping, kneeling by the low -cot bed with her face on her mother’s breast. - -“Hush! hush! my dear, poor child; you have been so brave always, and so -patient with my fretful ways; don’t give way now, dear; try to prepare -yourself----” - -Jenny’s hand was pressed upon her lips now, and she could not finish -the sentence. - -“You shall not talk of leaving me,” the girl cried passionately; adding -in tones of wild rebellion against the fate she had no power to avert, -“God would not be so cruel to me.” - -At this moment there was a crash of thunder that seemed to shake the -tall tenement to its foundation, and the mother and daughter clung to -each other almost in terror, the storm had arisen so suddenly. - -It was the evening of the day on which Oscar Hilton had told Iris the -story of her true parentage. - -“How nervous I am to-night, mother. Let me close the window blinds, the -rain is coming in through the broken pane, and if a drop should fall on -Miss Hilton’s dress she would never forgive me. If it was her sister, -Miss Iris, I should not be afraid.” - -Jenny’s voice ceased suddenly, for at this moment there was a low knock -on the door. - -“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I fear this is Miss Hilton’s servant for the -dress,” murmured the little seamstress, as she hastened to admit the -visitor; but the look of distress on her face changed to one of intense -astonishment as she saw who it was that waited to be admitted. - -“Miss Iris!” she could only ejaculate; and Iris came slowly into the -room, seating herself on the nearest chair, like one who was very -weary, while Jenny hastened to light a lamp, as the room was growing -quite dark. - -“Oh, Miss Iris!” she cried in alarm, when her eyes first fell upon the -changed countenance of the young lady, “you are in trouble; what can I -do for you? I know I am only a poor sewing girl, and you a rich man’s -daughter, but----” - -Until now Iris had been unable to speak, but here she interrupted: - -“Listen to me, Jenny: I have come to you to-night as poor and humble -as yourself. You must not ask me to tell you all my story, but this -you must know. I am no longer Iris Hilton, the rich man’s daughter; I -must earn my bread even as you earn yours, by the labor of my hands. -You have seemed so grateful for what little help I rendered you that I -came to you to-night as to a friend--there, don’t cry, Jenny--I cannot -cry; I do not feel as if I could ever shed a tear again. I would have -gone to my friend Mrs. Laurier, but I could not. I am no longer in -her social set, not that that would make any difference to her, but I -simply could not take advantage of her friendship.” - -There was something so unutterably sorrowful in the tone in which these -words were spoken that both Jenny and the sick mother shed tears of -sympathy, and the sound of the latter’s low sobbing had the effect of -rousing Iris from the bitter train of thought into which she had fallen. - -“Forgive me,” she said, in her sweet, gentle voice, as she approached -the bedside and clasped the hand of the invalid. “I have been selfish -to intrude my sorrows on you, but you shall see how cheerful I will be -after to-night, for I am going to stay with you, if you will have me, -and Jenny shall show me how to sew.” - -The sound of footsteps approaching the door, followed by an imperative -knock, interrupted Iris at this moment, and she had just time to seat -herself when Jenny opened the door, to admit a gentleman, the first -sight of whose face caused Iris to start and clasp her hands together -in sudden excitement. - -“The face in my mother’s locket!” she said to herself, and shivered -when the man’s voice fell on her ear, although he was speaking merely -on some trivial business matter that did not in the least concern her. - -“Mrs. Neville requested me to remind you that she expects her dress to -be completed before one o’clock to-morrow,” he was saying to Jenny, and -in a moment more he would have left the room without glancing toward -the spot where Iris was sitting but for some slight sound that caused -him to turn in the doorway. He started at the sight of Iris’ face, even -as Iris had done on first encountering his own, and Iris could hear the -swift-spoken words he whispered to Jenny: - -“Introduce me to that young lady; she is very like a--a friend I lost -years ago.” - -Jenny turned toward Iris with the words of introduction trembling on -her lips, but Iris checked her by a glance, as she herself stepped -forward. - -“My name is Maggie Gordon, sir; I am a seamstress, like my friend.” - -The abruptness of this singular introduction seemed to take the man -completely by surprise, and he could only bow low in acknowledgment and -hasten from the room, leaving Iris--or Maggie Gordon, as our heroine -had called herself--white and trembling like one who had stood in the -presence of some spirit of darkness. - -“I am afraid! Oh, so horribly afraid,” she whispered, and crouched -by the sick woman’s bedside, hiding her face in the bedclothes, and -trembling in every limb. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. THE UNFORGOTTEN FACE. - - -“I called to see your dressmaker this evening, Clara, and she promises -to have your work completed to-morrow, without fail, and--but by the -way, my dear, I am not quite certain that the young girl will be able -to keep her promise. I caught a glimpse of her invalid mother, and it -is my belief that the poor woman will not live till morning. I suppose, -in that case, the other young lady will be obliged to finish the work -for you.” - -The speaker was Mr. Charles Broughton, and the woman he addressed Mrs. -Clara Neville, a haughty, handsome widow of thirty, and Mr. Broughton’s -affianced wife. - -The fair widow would never have owned to herself that she could -harbor the slightest feeling of jealousy toward such an insignificant -personage as a dressmaker’s associate; but there was something in Mr. -Broughton’s expression and manner of speaking of that other lady that -brought an angry glitter to the black eyes of his betrothed. - -“Who is the person you are speaking of? I never had the pleasure -of meeting any other sewing woman in Jenny’s home. I have always -understood that Jenny Mason was without friends or connections in this -country.” - -“I saw a face in Jenny Mason’s home to-night that brought back----” - -He did not finish the sentence, but threw his hands suddenly over his -face, shivering in the warmth and luxury of the cozy apartment in which -he sat, as if he had been facing a wintry blast. - -“Let me finish the sentence for you, Mr. Broughton; the face you saw -to-night brought back the memory of some woman you have loved in the -past. What a pity that the possessor of this face should be only a -working girl.” - -“By heavens! you wrong me, Clara,” he cried hoarsely, “the girl I saw -to-night reminded me of my bitterest enemy--of a woman I have cause to -hate--and whose name I curse every hour of my life. If I thought one -drop of that woman’s blood flowed in the veins of this working girl I -would hunt her out of every place she found employment. I would never -rest until I had visited the sin of her--but what wild talk is this? -The woman whose name I curse is living in luxury wherever she may be, -and the poor little seamstress is not to blame for her remarkable -resemblance to one who must be a stranger to her. Never send me there -again, Clara; the sight of that girl’s face aroused all the demon -within me, and awakened passions that have lain dormant for years.” - -He was a handsome man, despite his five-and-forty years. His thick, -wavy black hair showed no thread of silver, and his eyes were keen and -bright. - -He was a general favorite among the fair sex, although but little was -known of his antecedents or former history. - -If there was an air of mystery surrounding him, this fact only tended -to make him more interesting in the eyes of the ladies, and there were -many who envied Clara Neville her conquest when it became known that -this fascinating little widow had won handsome Charley Broughton’s love. - -Clara herself was very proud of her stately, distinguished-looking -lover, and insanely jealous of him, as her recent exhibition of temper -may have led the reader to suppose. - -She was half frightened now at the storm of passion her own words had -evoked, but she had no longer any fear that he admired the girl he had -met at Jenny Mason’s. - -“Pray calm yourself, my dear Charles,” she said; “you shall never go to -my dressmaker’s again; you will surely be ill if you excite yourself -so; I shall be quite anxious about you when you leave me; please look a -little more cheerful for my sake.” - -“For your sake, my pretty pleader, I would accomplish a much harder -task,” replied Broughton, with assumed gayety, as he encircled the -widow’s form with his arm, and pressed a kiss on her white forehead. - -During the remainder of that evening he was as loving and attentive -as even the most exacting lady love could have desired, and left Mrs. -Neville in the happy belief that her idolatrous fondness for him was -fully reciprocated. - -But once outside her home the man’s whole demeanor changed, and as he -wended his way to the hotel at which he had taken up his residence, he -was saying to himself: - -“Bah! how hard it is for me to humor her jealous whims, and to keep up -a pretense of fondness for her. If I had allowed her to continue in -her belief that I admired this Maggie Gordon, she would have succeeded -in getting the girl out of the way.” - -Charles Broughton had reached his hotel by this time, and encountered a -friend who had been awaiting his arrival in the reading room, and who -greeted him with an exclamation of astonishment. - -“Heavens, Charley, how ill you look!” - -“Never mind my looks, my friend; I am a little under the weather, but -I don’t care to be reminded of it continually. Come up to my den, and -let me see if a chat with you and a glass of wine will not restore me,” -said Broughton carelessly; and a few moments later found the friends -chatting and laughing over their wine and cigars. - -But always between Charles Broughton and the ruby liquid he raised so -often to his lips came the beautiful face and violet eyes of the girl -who had declared herself to be Maggie Gordon. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. TREACHERY. - - -“Miss Iris! Oh, please excuse me, I promised to call you always Maggie, -but I am so frightened--I don’t know what I say. Maggie, are you awake? -My mother is very ill, I fear; I do not know what to do for her. Won’t -you please get up and look at her?” - -It was the night following that on which Iris had first entered the -humble home of Jenny Mason, and a comfortable couch had been provided -for her--at her own expense--in the little bedroom opening off the -apartment which served as sitting room, dining room, and kitchen in one. - -It was after eleven o’clock that night when Jenny aroused Iris from a -deep sleep. - -She arose from her bed with a sickening sense of dizziness and an -oppressing weight on her heart, but one glance into the white, pained -face of Jenny’s suffering mother gave her a false power of endurance. - -It was plain to even her experienced eye--and she had never yet looked -upon a person in the death struggle--that Mrs. Mason would never see -another sunrise. - -“Oh, Jenny, you must bring a doctor at once!” cried Iris, but at the -sound of these words the invalid’s fingers closed tighter around the -hand of her child. - -“Do not leave me--no doctor can--give me one moment of life. I want you -with me--till the end comes!” she whispered, and Iris had not the heart -to oppose the dying woman’s wishes. - -“Tell me where the doctor lives!” Iris whispered. - -Jenny offered a feeble remonstrance, but Iris would not listen, and, a -moment later, the latter was hurrying through the city streets. - -The doctor of whom she was in search resided about a dozen blocks from -the residence of Mrs. Mason, and Iris had gone about half that distance -when two gentlemen met her face to face. - -She was not veiled, and the moonlight fell upon her beautiful, pale -face. - -At sight of her both of the gentlemen started, and Iris in her -turn--having recognized in one of these men the gentleman whose face -had so strangely started her on the previous evening--uttered an -exclamation of dismay at first, but quickly recovering herself, bent -her head in acknowledgment of her recognition of him, and hurried on -without a glance into the face of his companion, with whom she had -often danced and chatted in the days when she believed herself the -young daughter and joint heiress of Oscar Hilton. - -Iris had not gone two dozen paces away from them when the companion of -Charles Broughton clasped the latter’s arm excitedly. - -“What can be the matter, Charley? Do you know anything about it? Iris -Hilton is not the girl whom I would expect to find walking the streets -at night alone, and at this hour, too. Why, Broughton, it is nearly -half past eleven. I shall follow her--there must be something wrong.” - -With these words, Gerald Dare, who had been a secret admirer of Oscar -Hilton’s younger daughter, was about to start in pursuit of the lonely -girl, but the firm grip of Charles Broughton’s hand upon his arm -restrained him. - -At the first mention of the name “Iris,” a gray, ashen pallor had crept -over Broughton’s face, and his breath had been quickly indrawn, like -that of one who was drowning. - -“Walk with me, Dare, to the nearest café--that deathly feeling of -weakness is creeping over me again. You know how ill I was last night!” - -His voice was so faint and tremulous that Dare was really alarmed, and -accompanied his friend to a café, thus giving Iris a chance to escape -his espionage, exactly the object which Broughton desired to attain. - -Iris pursued her way to the doctor’s residence unmolested, and was -fortunate enough to find that gentleman still in his office, he having -just returned from visiting one of his serious cases. - -Iris would have left the place at once on stating her errand, and -gaining his promise to follow her immediately, but something in the -expression of her wan, white face, with its innate and unmistakable -look of refinement, had led the doctor to detain her. - -“My child, you are yourself sadly in need of a physician’s care. You -are not fit to be out at night alone. Wait just one moment, and I -will have my gig made ready, and you and I will drive to Mrs. Mason’s -together.” - -They reached the tenement in which Mrs. Mason resided, some minutes -after midnight; but, as the old physician saw at a glance, his coming -had been in vain. - -The grim King of Terrors had entered before him, and the white, -still form beside which Jenny Mason knelt was only a senseless and -feelingless statue of clay--all that remained was the earthly tenement -whence the immortal spirit had fled. - -We will not linger over the days that followed; suffice it to say that -the last dollar of which Iris had been possessed when she left the home -of her reputed father was spent in defraying the funeral expenses of -Mrs. Mason. - -On the second day after Mrs. Mason’s burial Isabel Hilton called on -Jenny, and reproached the latter sharply for failing to have her dress -completed, refusing even to excuse the poor girl when she offered her -mother’s death as an apology for failing to fulfill her contract. - -Iris remained hidden in the inner room during Isabel’s visit, but the -latter made no mention whatever of her missing sister’s name. - -She quietly informed Jenny that in the future she would have no work -for her, as she was not fond of disappointments, and left the unhappy -little dressmaker in despair, as Mrs. Clara Neville had also withdrawn -her patronage. - -After this it was impossible for Iris and Jenny to live as the latter -had formerly been able to do. - -There came a day when the two girls left their humble home in search of -work, without having eaten any breakfast, for the simple reason that -there was not even a loaf of bread in the house. - -Jenny soon succeeded in obtaining employment of a fashionable -modiste in Forty-first Street, near Fifth Avenue, but Iris--or -Maggie Gordon--must consent to work six months for Madam Ward as an -apprentice, if she would learn the trade by which her friend earned a -livelihood. - -Jenny urged her to accept the offer. - -“Do consent to stay here, Maggie; madam seems to be a kind lady, and -the girls with whom we will have to work--Emma and Sarah--have every -appearance of being quiet and ladylike girls, who will never pry into -your business or make themselves too familiar.” - -Iris consented to Jenny’s plan, even remembering that she had not one -dollar to her name, but thinking that the jewelry of which she was -possessed--if sold--would bring her money enough to defray her expenses -until she could learn to work with Jenny. - -Jenny made it a condition with Madam Ward that Maggie should not be -separated from her, and consequently another day found Maggie Gordon, -with Jenny Mason, Emma Henry, and Sarah Bennett, engaged in the making -of an elegant costume of white satin and point lace--the bridal dress -of Mrs. Clara Neville, to be worn on the occasion of that lady’s -marriage with Mr. Charles Broughton. - -Despite all her brave efforts to accomplish the work expected of her, -the constant and unusual confinement of the workroom quickly told -upon Iris; and on the third day of her engagement with Madam Ward she -was obliged to quit her work shortly after noontime, unable longer to -combat the deathly feeling of sickness that had been gradually creeping -upon her since the night of Mrs. Mason’s death. - -Emma, who was just returning from the bank--where she had been sent to -change a check for her employer--met Maggie at the hall door. - -“I have a telegram for you, Maggie; I signed the receipt myself to -save you the trouble of coming downstairs,” said Emma, in her gentle, -sympathetic voice; and Maggie could only bow her head in acknowledgment -of Emma’s kindness, as she took the ominous yellow envelope from the -latter’s hand, and seated herself, weak and trembling, on the lower -step of the stairs leading to the workroom, to make herself mistress of -its contents. - -The girl, Emma, with the true instincts of a gentlewoman, passed up the -stairs without waiting to see how the contents of the yellow envelope -would affect her fellow worker, although her young heart ached for the -girl whose sufferings she could read so plainly in the sorrowful eyes -and pallid features for a moment uplifted to her gaze. - -Maggie was therefore all alone when she opened the telegram, and read -the following words: - - “TO IRIS--OR MAGGIE GORDON: If you ever cared for Chester St. John - come to him now. He is dying, and calls for you with every breath. - He cannot live one hour from the time you receive this telegram; so - if you slight this message you will render his last moments unhappy. - Should you care to see him alive, call immediately at No. 685B - Lexington Avenue.” - -Iris read the message over and over again. - -All the memory of the bitter words that had passed Chester St. John’s -lips when he bade her farewell faded from her brain. - -She scarcely looked at the name signed to the telegram--Gerald Dare. - -She thought of nothing but that Chester St. John was dying, and that -she loved him with all her heart and soul. - -And with the telegram crushed in her hand, and only the thought of her -approaching meeting with Chester St. John keeping her from giving way -to that sickening sensation of weakness, she turned her steps in the -direction of the house in Lexington Avenue, without a thought that any -treachery had lured her thither, although St. John’s residence was not -in that locality. - -It never occurred to her to wonder how this Gerald Dare knew of her -change of name, and the place where she worked. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. A CRUEL STRATAGEM. - - -Several of the friends whom Iris Hilton had visited in the days of her -prosperity resided on Lexington Avenue, and she knew that the number -mentioned in the dispatch was in the neighborhood of Twenty-third -Street, so that she had not more than a dozen blocks to walk from Madam -Ward’s establishment to her destination. - -At last the goal was reached, and she stood still for one moment before -she could ascend the high stone stoop, pressing her hands to her heart, -and praying for strength to go through the ordeal before her. - -“He must not see me looking so ill--as I feel I am looking now. Oh, my -darling! My brave, strong, noble love, what can have stricken you down -so soon?” she murmured; and summoning all her strength to overcome the -faintness that was creeping slowly upon her, she ascended the steps and -rang a soft peal at the doorbell. - -A stolid-looking colored man opened the door at her summons, and the -girl tried to read in his face some knowledge of the true state of -affairs in his master’s household, but she might as well have sought to -penetrate the countenance of a statue. - -“I wish to see him--Mr. St. John--they--they telegraphed for me,” she -said, with a quick, panting breath, and at her words the ebony statue -smiled and opened the door wider, that she might enter. - -“Oh, yes, missy, I have had my orders to admit you,” he said, and -something in his careless, and even jovial manner gave Iris a hope that -things were not so bad with Chester St. John as she had feared. - -“Will you take me to him now--at once,” she cried. “Oh, please make no -delay--I am very calm, I shall say or do nothing to excite him.” - -“All right, missy, just you follow me,” replied the negro; and, still -smiling blandly, he led the way to a room in the second story. - -On the threshold of this room the girl paused, her heart beating -tumultuously, and her fair, young face growing white as the dead. - -“Oh, God, grant that he may recognize me, and that I may teach him to -know that I was never false to him,” she prayed, and then, forcing -back the sobs that were rising in her throat, she followed the servant -into the room, stepping softly in her fear of disturbing the invalid, -but recoiling with a little cry of repugnance and dismay as her eyes -fell upon the face of the man who had come forward to meet her--the -handsome, saturnine face of Charles Broughton. - -As yet she had not conceived any idea of treachery, and after this -first involuntary shrinking from the man whom, for some reason, she -disliked and feared--she would not allow herself to think of anything -but Chester St. John. - -“Where is he?” she whispered, with a wild glance around the room; and -at her words Broughton broke into a low, mocking laugh. - -“My dear, you must grant me your pardon for luring you here by -stratagem. Your lover is--for aught I know to the contrary--as well -as you or I at this moment; but I knew of no other way of gaining -an interview with you, and so took the liberty of using his name to -accomplish my purpose--don’t look so horrified--I mean no harm to -you--sit down, and Sam shall bring you some wine.” - -There was no need for him to tell her to be seated. - -She had fallen into the chair nearest her, trembling in every limb, and -for the moment utterly incapable of speech or motion. - - * * * * * - -On the day subsequent to that on which Iris had left the home of Oscar -Hilton, Isabel, the beloved daughter of the latter, was taken suddenly -and dangerously ill, and the fond father was almost beside himself with -fear for his darling’s safety. - -But for this greater and all-absorbing sorrow he would have caused an -immediate search to be made for Iris, as it had been no part of his -policy to drive the girl from his roof. - -Mrs. Hilton, as has been mentioned, was a confirmed invalid, and Iris -had been her constant attendant. - -She fretted and lamented her daughter’s absence now to such an extent -that Mr. Hilton could not bear to enter her presence. - -Evelyn Hilton had been a woman of rare and unusual beauty, and of the -poor remains of this loveliness she was even now foolishly proud. - -She was a vain, selfish woman, inordinately fond of dress and luxurious -living, and with little affection to bestow on any object but self. - -She had never seemed to bear the real mother love for her only child, -being unable to understand the noble nature of Iris, a nature high -above her own as the stars above the earth. - -It gave her no pain now to think of her child’s probable fate, but she -lamented in bitter terms the girl’s heartlessness in leaving her to the -care of hirelings. - -“Why did you say anything to drive her away, Oscar? You know how sadly -I shall miss her. I shall never be able to sleep without her voice to -read to me, and no one can soothe me as Iris could, when I suffer with -that dreadful pain in my head. You must find her and bring her back -to me. I cannot get along without Iris; indeed, I cannot, Oscar,” the -invalid had cried to her husband; and he had promised to find the girl -if possible, and would certainly have made an attempt to do so had it -not been for the fact of Isabel’s alarming seizure. - -This put all thoughts of Iris from his mind, and during the three days -that followed the house was in a state of confusion impossible to -describe. - -It appeared that every doctor of note in the city was called in to -prescribe for Isabel, and it soon became known throughout the circle -to which proud, dark-eyed Isabel had been wont to mingle that Oscar -Hilton’s daughter’s life was despaired of. - -On the fourth day of Isabel’s illness Chester St. John, who had left -the city on the day when Iris rejected his love, returned to his home, -and, chancing to hear of the illness of Hilton’s daughter through the -conversation of two gentlemen in his clubroom, at once concluded that -the sufferer was the girl whom he had loved--nay, whom he still loved -as he could never love another, although her own words had condemned -her as a heartless coquette, and he had parted from her with bitter -words of reproach and recrimination. - -“Iris dying! Oh, it cannot be! My bright, beautiful love,” he groaned, -and the impulse to go to her home and beg them to let him look upon her -face once more was too strong to be resisted. - -He remembered now, when he had believed that Heaven was taking her from -him--remembered with an anguish keen as death--the last look he had -seen in the deep blue eyes of Iris--the look of passionate love and -bitter pain that had followed him, even while her cruel lips sent him -from her. - -“There was some mistake--oh, my love! My precious little Iris, if I -could see you now you would make it plain to me,” he thought, and -walked directly from the club to Oscar Hilton’s, his heart turning sick -within him as he approached the house, and a terrible fear came to him -that he might see long streamers of crape and white ribbon streaming -from the bell handle. - -“I think the sight would have killed me,” he murmured, as he stood on -the threshold awaiting admittance a few minutes later. - -On this day Isabel had been pronounced “out of danger,” and Oscar -Hilton consented to leave her bedside long enough to see Mr. St. John. - -The desire to win this rich man for his daughter’s husband instantly -revived in the father’s heart at sight of Chester’s card, and he left -the presence of the girl who had been so near to the portals of death -with no prayer of thanksgiving in his heart to the God who had spared -her to him, but with wild schemes running through his brain for her -worldly advancement. He knew that when she gained her strength again -she would stop at nothing to bring this proud, handsome Chester St. -John to her feet, and he himself had a plan by which he hoped to aid -her in the accomplishment of this purpose. - -On entering the little reception room into which a servant had shown -St. John, Mr. Hilton was startled by the almost ghastly pallor of the -young man’s face. He was not long in making the discovery that it was -fears for the life of Iris, and no anxiety for Isabel, that had wrought -this change in the strong, proud man before him, and a fierce and -unreasoning hatred sprang to life in his heart for the hapless child -whose sweet, young face had had power to awaken such a wondrous depth -of love in this man’s soul, a love that his own queenly Isabel had -failed as yet to inspire. - -The plans which had been hitherto vague and shadowy took sudden form -and shape in his scheming brain, and when Chester St. John left the -house, nearly an hour later, Oscar Hilton watched his retreating form -with a look almost amounting to triumph. - -“I have shaken his faith in her, even as she herself could not shake -it, although she assured him she had no love for him, and led him to -think her a coquette. He will not seek her now, although he does not as -yet believe--as I hinted to him--that she has left my roof for the arms -of some unworthy lover. He shall believe it, though--if Evelyn has not -forgotten her cunning in imitating her daughter’s pretty penmanship.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. THE CHILD OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT. - - -In all her life Iris had never experienced such a feeling of horror as -that which filled her heart on finding that she had been trapped to the -house on Lexington Avenue by the man whom we know as Charley Broughton. - -“Let me go away. What wrong have I ever done you that you should -terrify me thus? What can you want of me?” she faltered, staggering -like one under the influence of liquor, as she attempted to walk to the -door. - -But for all answer Broughton forced her back into the chair from which -she had arisen, laughing sardonically at her childish betrayal of -terror. - -“My pretty one! I tell you I mean you no harm; why do you fear me so; -do you know me?” - -Iris shuddered, and covered her eyes with her hands to shut out the -sight of his face. - -“Do you know me, little Iris?” he repeated, fearing that she had not -heard his question, and laying a particular stress on the name Iris. - -“I will tell you all I know of you,” cried the girl at last, with a -suddenness that startled Broughton more than he would have cared to -confess. “One day, some three years ago, my mother, who is an invalid -confined to her own chamber, sent me to her writing desk in search of -some prescription--or the receipt of a remedy that would ease her pain. -In my haste I overturned the desk, and shattered it, as the wood was -old and dried. While I was gathering up the contents, which had been -scattered upon the floor, I found among them a small gold locket which -I had never seen my mother wear. It was set with pearls, and I admired -it greatly. I remember that my mother cried out in alarm when she saw -the locket in my hands, but I had already opened it, and saw within -it the picture of a man’s face--your face. I questioned my mother -concerning the original, and for the first time in my life saw her -violently agitated. She told me then that the man whose face I gazed -upon in a species of fascination was my enemy--my enemy and hers, and -if ever I met him in life to beware of him, for he would leave no means -untried to work my ruin. That time has come, and your conduct toward me -proves that my mother’s fears were not without foundation. I am in your -power, a weak and unprotected girl, while you are strong and powerful -and pitiless; but although I was terrified at first by the means which -you employed to lure me into your power, I am not afraid of you now, -for I remember that there is a God who knoweth even the fall of the -sparrow, and that the same God watches over me in this--my hour of -peril.” - -Iris had arisen from her chair while speaking, and stood before Charles -Broughton in an attitude of defiance, her small hands folded on her -breast, her pretty, bright-tressed head thrown back, and her eyes -uplifted in childish faith and confidence to the God who seems so dear -to such as her. - -For one brief moment, Charles Broughton, sin-hardened, worldly, and -unprincipled though he was, turned his eyes away from the sight of that -pure, uplifted face, ashamed of his own vileness; but, alas! he did not -listen long to the promptings of his better nature. The one aim and -object of his life was to be revenged on one who had bitterly wronged -him, and through this innocent child before him he saw the means of -striking the first blow for the accomplishment of this revenge. - -“You shall know the reason I have for being an enemy to the woman you -call mother,” he said. “You shall know why Evelyn Hilton speaks of me -as her enemy and yours. Twenty years ago I was not the man you see -before you to-day. I was young and hopeful and tender-hearted. - -“It is true I had been led into bad company, and had allowed myself to -be drawn into temptation; but when I met the girl whom it was my fate -to love, I swore to overcome all this temptation and to live a life I -need not be ashamed to ask her to share. - -“She was a poor girl, and married me; not because she loved me, but for -the reason that my father was a wealthy man, and she hoped to live a -luxurious life as the wife of his only son and heir. - -“In this she was disappointed, for in the very hour in which he learned -that I had made Evelyn Hardress my wife, he disinherited me, and, dying -two months later, left all his wealth to the endowment of a charitable -institution, cutting me off with the mocking bequest of one dollar. - -“Had I been alone the sufferer, I would not have felt this injustice -so bitterly; but my young wife was passionately fond of the luxuries -wealth alone could buy, and as I still loved her passionately, it -almost killed me to be obliged to deny her anything for which she -craved. - -“At last I was obliged to tell her the truth; and from that hour my -nature changed, until from the weak, extravagant, but foolishly fond -boy of twenty years ago, you see me the bitter, vengeful man of to-day. - -“You shrink from me still, and your heart clings to the woman who gave -you birth; but you can never know what agony I endured for that woman’s -sake. - -“A distant relative of my father offered me at this time a position as -cashier in his bank, and my acceptance of this offer sealed my doom. -My wife was dearer to me than any consideration of honor, and when -she threw herself weeping on my breast, lamenting that she could not -attend a party to which she had been invited because of her inability -to dress as richly as she had been used to do, I committed my first -crime. I appropriated one thousand dollars of the money intrusted to my -care, and gave it to her for her personal adornment. I saw her decked -in the robes purchased at the sacrifice of my honor. I knew that I had -become a thief for her sake, and yet I gloried in her peerless beauty, -and never loved her as passionately as on that night when I heard her -spoken of as the most beautiful woman in all that crowded assemblage. - -“It was not love I felt for her, but a blind infatuation that led me -on to repeat my first crime time and again, until from very terror of -detection I determined to quit the country. Evelyn encouraged me in -this determination, until, just one day previous to that on which I -was to have taken my departure for Europe, where I hoped to earn the -wherewithal to repay the large sums I had purloined, I was arrested -on the charge of forgery, a check having been presented at the bank -bearing the signature of one of our wealthiest depositors, but written -in a hand that was instantly recognized as my own. - -“I could almost have sworn it myself to be my own handwriting, so -perfect and faultless was the imitation; but after the first shock of -this awful accusation was over I recognized it as the work of my wife, -who had often boasted of her talent in copying the handwriting of any -person whose penmanship she had ever studied. - -“I made no charge against her at the time; indeed, I think the shock -of the discovery deprived me for a time of my reason, and I remember -nothing definitely until I recovered to find myself in a prison cell, -branded as a felon, and doomed to years of confinement. - -“When at last, after five years’ imprisonment, the full realization of -my position was brought home to me, I swore a bitter and terrible oath -of vengeance on the woman who had dragged me down to the lowest depths -of degradation, on her and her offspring forever. - -“I was allowed a limited communication with friends in the outside -world, who had known and respected me in the days of my prosperity, -and from them I learned that Evelyn, who had succeeded in obtaining a -divorce from me, had married a retired merchant named Oscar Hilton, and -was living the luxurious life of which she had been always so fond. - -“From these friends, also, I learned that she had given birth, some -two months previous to her marriage with Hilton, to a female child, -to whom, after her usual romantic notions, she had given the name of -Cleopatra’s handmaiden, Iris. - -“I believed at the time, as I believe now, that you, Iris, are my child -as surely as you are Evelyn Hilton’s, and I claim an equal right to -your obedience. - -“I have no love for you, I must tell you frankly; you are too much like -the woman who has cursed my life, and made me the reckless wretch I am -to-day. You are beautiful as a siren, with the fatal beauty that lured -me to destruction, and I have resolved that you shall never betray a -good man’s trust as your mother betrayed mine. - -“You are my child, Iris Trisilian, and you shall stay with me and do my -bidding; nay, it is useless for you to glance so significantly toward -the door--as well might a bird hope to escape the toils of a charmer, -as you expect to leave my care.” - -The man who had called himself Charles Broughton took forcible -possession of the girl’s hands now, and attempted to seat her in -the chair near which she stood; but at this moment the sound of low -knocking on the door interrupted him. - -Something in the expression of her face half frightened Charles -Broughton, and grasping her arm almost rudely, he whispered: - -“Do not contradict anything I say, no matter how far I may depart from -the truth. Do not dare to carry out the defiance your looks express, -if you would not have me brand you as the daughter of a felon--and not -only the child of a forger, but of an escaped convict. Say one word -to betray me, and the proud aristocrat who has declared his love for -you--the haughty Chester St. John, who is so proud of his spotless -reputation and ancient lineage--shall know you as the offspring of -Carleton Tresilian. Ah, I think that was some one knocking on the -door--come in!” And Charles Broughton threw himself negligently into -a chair at some distance from Iris, who was sitting now with her head -thrown back among the cushions of an easy-chair, her hands locked -tightly together in her lap, and those terrible words to which she had -listened a moment before repeating themselves over and over again in -her tortured brain--“the child of an escaped convict.” - - - - -CHAPTER L. SUNDERED HEARTS. - - -On the afternoon of the day following Chester St. John’s visit to Mr. -Hilton, the former was seated alone in the library of his father’s -mansion on Fifth Avenue, pondering sadly over the change that seemed -to have come over all his life since the hour when the hope he had -cherished of winning Iris for his wife had been shattered by her own -cruel rejection of him. - -He felt assured that there was some mystery connected with Iris’ flight -from the home of the man he still believed to be her father, but that -this mystery was connected with any unworthy love never for one moment -occurred to the loyal heart of Chester St. John, Oscar Hilton’s hints -to that effect notwithstanding. - -While he was thinking thus, a servant brought him a card bearing the -name of Oscar Hilton, and informed him that that gentleman was waiting -to see him downstairs. - -“Thank Heaven, he brings me some news of Iris!” was Chester’s first -thought. But his first glimpse into Hilton’s face showed him that -whatever the tidings the latter brought there was in them no cause for -rejoicing. - -Mr. Hilton was very pale, and his face wore an expression of deep -sorrow. - -“I am in great trouble,” he said, in answer to Chester’s anxious -inquiry, and stood for a moment with his hands clasped on the low, -marble mantel, and his face hidden in them. - -St. John was terribly alarmed, but could not give voice to his fears, -and Hilton himself was obliged to resume the conversation. - -“I came to you, St. John, because I know you loved my unfortunate -child, and----” - -“My God, what is it? What has happened? Do not keep me in suspense; -tell me the worst,” cried the young man hoarsely. - -And with his hatred for unhappy Iris growing stronger than ever with -every fresh evidence of this man’s love for her, Hilton exclaimed: - -“The worst is only this--that Iris is unworthy your love or mine. -Chester St. John, I will tell you a secret you should never have known -but for that girl’s ingratitude to me. Iris is no child of mine; her -mother was, when I first met her, the divorced wife of a man who was -serving out a term of imprisonment for forgery. - -“You can understand my infatuation, St. John, when I tell you that the -mother at that time was far more beautiful than the daughter is to-day. -Iris was then a child of two years, and I promised to rear her as my -own, and have faithfully kept my vow, as you may have seen, making no -difference between her and my own child, Isabel. When I listened to -your confession of love for her, you may have seen that I was agitated, -but even then I would have allowed you to take the girl to your heart -without revealing a word of the truth to you, in my affection for her, -had it not been for her conduct since that time. But what is the -matter with you? Why do you look at me so strangely?” - -“I think I understand now the reason she rejected me. You were not so -kind to her as you tried to be to me. You told her this story of her -unhappy parentage, and the poor child was too proud to come to me with -this stain upon her name, my poor, little love!” - -The tone of exquisite tenderness in which these last words were spoken -enraged Hilton almost beyond power of control, and he could not quite -conceal his exultation as he handed Chester a dainty, pink-tinted -envelope, with his own name written in a feminine hand on its face. - -He recognized the penmanship instantly as that of Iris, who had once -copied a song for him, and whose notes to his sister Grace he had read -on several occasions. - -“Read the letter; you have a right to be made acquainted with its -contents,” said Mr. Hilton; and thus urged, St. John took the letter, -upon which Iris’ blue eyes had never fallen, and read words that -separated him from her so effectually that unless the truth of this -missive should be discovered, she would be to him henceforth as the -greatest stranger--a woman whom he could no longer respect. - -He handed the letter back to Oscar Hilton in silence, but his face was -as white as it would ever be in its coffin, and his hand trembled so -that the letter fluttered from his hold to the floor. - -“I thank you for having awakened me from my dream,” he said hoarsely; -and a few minutes later Mr. Hilton took his departure, exulting in the -thought that if Chester St. John and Iris Tresilian met face to face on -the morrow, the former would pass the girl as if she were a stranger; -and it now only remained for Isabel to win the heart which no longer -belonged to another. - - - - -CHAPTER LI. OSCAR HILTON’S TRIUMPH. - - -The letter shown to Chester St. John was, as the reader has doubtless -surmised, the work of Evelyn Hilton, and written at the dictation of -her husband. - -Cold and unkind though she had been to her daughter while the latter -had been in attendance on her, it cost her a struggle to write the -words that would make her child appear in such an evil light to the man -for whose eye it was intended. - -There had been a stormy scene in the chamber of the invalid on the -occasion of the writing of this letter, for at first Mrs. Hilton had -boldly declined to do the work required of her. - -“You shall write the letter, and write just exactly as I dictate you. -How dare you refuse to obey me?” he almost shouted, grasping Evelyn’s -delicate wrist so tightly that she cried out with pain. - -Even after this outburst she ventured to offer another feeble protest. - -“How can you ask me to do that which will ruin the reputation of my own -child? Oh, Oscar, think of your own Isabel. Could any threat of harm -to yourself or any inducement that could be offered you compel you to -write one line that would injure her?” - -“You amuse me, Evelyn, you are developing rare dramatic talent in your -old age--your pretense of love for your child is really a fine piece of -acting--bah! Do you think I believe it is anything more than acting? -Did you love your child when you would have placed her in an asylum -sixteen years ago? A little, helpless toddler of two years? You talk of -the ties of natural affection! What had you done with that sentiment -when you forged your husband’s name, and branded the man who had loved -you truly as felon, suffering him to be cast into a prison for your -sins? Good heavens, I have killed her!” - -The last exclamation broke from Hilton’s lips with a cry of unfeigned -alarm, for Evelyn had fallen back like one dead among the cushions of -her easy-chair. - -Oscar Hilton had loved this woman--next to his idolized -daughter--better than anything in life, and she had not even yet lost -all sway over his selfish heart. - -He was thoroughly alarmed now, and used every effort in his power to -restore her, fearing to call any assistance lest in her first moments -of awakening to life she might say something to betray her perilous -secret. - -It seemed to him that hours had passed before his efforts were rewarded -with success, and the dark-blue eyes he had once thought so beautiful -lost that strained and awful look that had so terrified him. - -“How did you learn my secret?” she cried, when fully restored. - -“Your secret is known only to myself, Evelyn, and I assure you it is -safe with me as long as you strive to please me and obey me. I learned -the truth from your own lips, while you were sleeping at my side. You -have a habit of talking aloud, and quite connectedly in your sleep, and -you rave of that forged note continually. You are white and trembling -still; drink this glass of wine, and when you are little stronger I -will dictate the words I wish you to write in your daughter’s name. The -imitation of her handwriting will be no trouble to you, I know, for you -have often boasted to me of your skill in this sort of work. Have you -decided to obey me, Evelyn?” - -“I have no choice left me but to obey you,” the woman answered, in a -tone of intense weariness; and half an hour later found her engaged in -writing the letter that was destined to cause her child many an hour of -keen suffering. It was addressed to Oscar Hilton, and read as follows: - - “I am leaving your home to follow the fortunes of a man whom I love, - but of whom I know you would not approve. I can tell you nothing - concerning him, only the simple fact of my love for him. I know you - had set your heart upon my marriage with Chester St. John, but this - could never have been. - - “I like Mr. St. John very much, and I may have deceived him into the - belief that I returned his affection for me, but I could not help it; - it was so pleasant for me to feel in company that I had the power to - retain the handsomest and wealthiest man among them by my side, while - the other ladies were dying of envy. - - “I am sorry now that I did so, because I know that I have often given - pain to your Isabel, who loves Chester St. John with her whole heart. - She never betrayed her secret to me until I told her of his proposal, - and then she could not hide it. - - “Her face turned white as death, and I heard her whisper his name over - and over in such a tone of love and sorrow that I was ashamed of my - own heartless conduct. - - “I hope he will learn to love Isabel, she is much more worthy than I - am, and better fitted to grace his home. - - “When you receive this I shall be with the man of my choice. - - “Break the news as gently as possible to my mother, and ask her to - forgive and forget her willful daughter, - - “IRIS.” - -This was the letter, and hardened and worldly as was the woman who -wrote it, a tear fell on the open page before her as she signed the -name of the sweet-faced girl who had never given her an angry or -impatient word. - -On the day following that on which he had shown St. John the letter, -Mr. Hilton met Chester face to face on Broadway, and on the latter’s -making a polite inquiry for Miss Hilton, answered in a grave and -sorrowful tone: - -“She does not appear to be making much progress toward recovery. Her -doctors say she makes no effort, and they are astonished that one so -young and lovely should seem to have so little desire for life. St. -John, it would kill me to give her up,” and Hilton grasped the arm -of his companion with a passionate vehemence that contrasted oddly -with his usual calm and collected demeanor. “It would kill me,” he -reiterated, “and to save her I would suffer any humiliation. St. John, -you know the secret sorrow that is breaking my darling’s proud heart; -I was obliged to expose it to you when I showed you Iris’ heartless -letter. Will not you do something to restore her to me? Call on her as -a friend. Do not let her think that you have deserted our home because -of Iris’ cruel treatment----” - -“Hush, Mr. Hilton; please do not mention that name in my hearing,” -exclaimed St. John, drawing his arm out of that of his companion with a -shudder of uncontrollable repulsion. - -The interview ended with a half reluctant promise from St. John to call -on Isabel, and Isabel’s father went on his way triumphant, thinking -as he proceeded toward his home: “Before another month is over, my -darling shall be Chester St. John’s promised wife, and whether I fail -or prosper, her future will be well provided for.” - - - - -CHAPTER LII. ANOTHER ENEMY. - - -The person who entered the presence of Iris and Charles Broughton at -the latter’s invitation, was Mr. Gerald Dare, the young man who had -recognized Iris while walking with Broughton on the night of Mrs. -Mason’s death. - -At sight of Iris now, seated in close proximity to his friend -Broughton, Dare was literally spellbound, and found it impossible to -conceal his astonishment. - -“Iris Hilton!” he exclaimed, involuntarily uttering the name by which -he had known her; and then catching the angry, indignant look in -Broughton’s eyes, he sought to offer some apology for his rudeness. As -for Iris herself, she uttered no word or sound. - -“You told me to call at this hour, Broughton,” began Dare in a confused -and hesitating manner; to which Broughton replied with a laugh: - -“Of course I did, my dear boy, and we’ll settle our little business at -once. Come downstairs with me, if you please; Iris will excuse me and -remain here until I return to her, will you not, my dear?” - -At this pointed question Iris lifted her face quickly with an angry, -rebellious flash in her deep blue eyes, but the words she would have -spoken died on her lips as she encountered his glance, and she could -only bow her head in silence. - -Finding herself alone a moment later, she tried to collect her -thoughts, and to arrange some plan for her future, but the weight of -her mother’s sin was too heavy upon her, and she seemed alike incapable -of thought or action. - -“My duty is to obey him, and to so repair the wrong my mother has -done him as to win him from his scheme of vengeance,” was the noble -thought that came to Iris, even in this hour of her bitter humiliation -and pain; and when Broughton--as we will still call the man who had -declared his real name to be Carleton Tresilian--returned to the room -after dismissing his visitor, Iris, white as the dead, but calm and -tearless, met him with words that filled his heart with a thousand -varying emotions. - -“What can I do to repair the cruel wrong you have suffered at my -mother’s hands? I am only a girl, weak and painfully ignorant of the -world and its ways; but you say you are my father, and I am ready to -obey you--what would you have me do?” - -She was standing before him now, with her beautiful white face upturned -to him, and her hands clasped tightly before her, showing the strong -effort she was making to control her agitation. - -If Iris had borne less resemblance to the woman who had wronged him, -his heart might have softened to the innocent offspring, but now the -girl’s beauty only recalled to mind the tortures her mother had forced -him to endure, and he laughed mockingly at her efforts to conciliate -him. - -“My dear, I know you will obey me, simply for the reason that I shall -compel you to do so. I do not intend to ask any great sacrifice at your -hands; but before I state what I shall require of you, I want you to -tell me why you left the home of your mother’s husband so suddenly, and -why you fled from the man who was willing to marry you--the wealthy -Chester St. John. I have followed up your history pretty closely since -I first looked upon your face in the room occupied by the sewing girl, -Jenny Mason, but the cause of your leaving Mr. Hilton’s protection I -have not as yet been able to discover. Please tell me the truth of the -matter at once.” - -“I left Mr. Hilton’s roof immediately upon learning that I had no legal -right to the benefits he conferred on me; and as for Mr. St. John--you -know that I would not marry him, believing myself the child of a felon!” - -“Your home shall be with me for the future--at least until I can find -a good husband for you. This is my residence, and as you may observe, -it is pretty comfortable. I have no women in the house save one old -negress, who attends to the chamber work. All the rest of my servants -are males, and colored. I shall teach them to look upon you as their -mistress, and I do not think you will find it any trouble to manage -them. I receive a great many friends here almost every evening, and I -shall expect you to help me entertain them. My friends are gentlemen -always, and we employ our time in the enjoyment of a social game of -cards. All I shall require of you, Iris, will be to dress handsomely, -look your prettiest, and make yourself agreeable to my comrades and -friends. Do you understand?” - -Iris had listened to his words with a look of intense horror gradually -creeping into the blue depths of her wide, dilated eyes. - -She did understand his plan, probably more thoroughly than he had -intended her to do. She had read repeatedly of the fashionable gambling -dens to which men were lured by the beauty of some fair woman who was -employed for no other purpose than to tempt them hither. - -She faced Charles Broughton suddenly, with a flash of defiance in her -great, lustrous eyes. - -“I shall not remain in this house; I shall not do what you ask of me. -If you were poor--though you were guilty of any sin--I would work for -you; yes, beg for you, I think, willingly, but to live in luxury, as a -decoy for gamblers, this I cannot and shall not do, nor can you compel -me to do so. Let me go away; I ask nothing from you; I never wish to -see your face again.” - -She made a step toward the door as she ceased speaking, but Broughton -placed himself before it, laughing mockingly. - -“Not so fast, my dear,” he said, with a sneer. “I have a few words -more to say to you, before you take your departure. I shall not try to -detain you here by force, but there is one thing I would like you to -remember. The day is not far distant when you shall come to me and beg -for a shelter under the roof you now despise. Go, now, if you will, but -I advise you to think twice before you do so. I am not one to threaten -idly, nor to forget a threat once uttered. The offer I first made you -is still open to you, and----” - -“And I still refuse to accept it as resolutely as before. Let me go -from this house, and I can trust my after fate with God. I am not -afraid that He will desert me; please stand aside and let me pass.” - -“Very well, Miss Iris, have your own way in this matter; but remember -my warning,” he said quietly, and then opened the door for her, and -even preceded her to the lower hallway, and stood on the steps until -she had left the house. - -Once in the open air, Iris felt that she could breathe more freely, and -a weight seemed lifted off her heart as she turned her steps in the -direction of the humble abode in which she occupied a room with Jenny -Mason. - -At the very moment when Iris was descending the broad stone steps of -the house in Lexington Avenue, a limousine was passing the door, and -from the window of the vehicle a lady’s face looked out--the face of -the rich widow who was Charles Broughton’s affianced wife. - -Clara Neville had glanced toward the house occupied by the man she -loved with some vague hope of seeing his face near one of the windows, -or perhaps fancying that he might recognize her car and come down to -speak with her. - -There had been a smile on her lips, and a happy expression on her face -when she turned toward the window that commanded the best view of -Broughton’s residence, but this look had changed with the swiftness of -a lightning’s flash to one of the wildest jealousy and intense hatred -when her eyes fell upon the figure of Iris descending the steps from -his door, and of Broughton himself standing in the doorway, and so -intent on watching the girl’s retreating form that he did not once -glance toward her car as it passed. - -Almost choking with rage the widow pulled the check string and -instructed her chauffeur to turn at the corner and keep Iris in sight -until she reached her destination, no matter to what part of the city -she might lead him. - -“All right, ma’am,” the man answered respectfully, and while Iris -walked slowly toward the place she called home, there was no voice in -her heart to tell her of the woman who followed on her track and was -destined to be the most cruel and bitter enemy against whom she would -be forced to contend in the new and strange life now opening before -her. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. HIDDEN PERILS. - - -Iris found Jenny at home, and terribly alarmed at her friend’s absence. - -“Oh, Miss Ir--Maggie, I was so anxious about you,” she cried, embracing -her companion affectionately. - -These simple words and display of affection destroyed the last remnant -of strength Iris had striven so hard to retain, and, throwing herself -on Jenny’s breast, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking. - -These tears relieved her overtasked brain, and she soon recovered -herself and turned her sweet face toward Jenny, with its own bright, -winning smile. - -“There, dear Jenny, I am all right again, and now we will commence our -life all anew. I shall never leave you, dear, as long as you care to -have me with you, but you must not ask me anything about the telegram, -or about anything I do that may seem strange to you. You must only -trust me, dear little friend, and help me to--forget.” - -“There is nothing in the world that would make me disturb you, Maggie, -and I shall never question anything you may choose to do, no matter how -strange it may appear to me--but, good gracious! while we have been -talking and crying like two babies, our nice hot tea has been left to -cool on the table. Sit down, dear; I am actually as hungry as a bear.” - -The last remark brought a smile to Maggie’s pale face, and the two -girls were soon chatting pleasantly over their simple meal. - -After this time, as day followed day, and Iris heard nothing further -from Charles Broughton, she began to experience a sense of peace and -security in her new and humble life. She became a great favorite with -Madam Ward, and by her diligent attention to everything that was shown -to her, bade fair to learn the trade by which she hoped to earn her -livelihood in a very short time. - -There was not a girl in Madam Ward’s employ who did not love the -beautiful young apprentice, who never assumed any airs of superiority, -although her every act and word proclaimed her a true lady. - -She had a bright smile and a pleasant word for every one; and of the -sorrows gnawing at her heart she never complained, even to Jenny. -But the burden of her secret grief was telling upon her, and one -night after the girls had taken their departure, Madam Ward said in -confidence to her sister: - -“I am afraid our little Maggie will not be able to stand the -confinement of a workroom. I can see her failing day by day. She has -not been accustomed to such a life, it is plain to be seen. I shall -give her something to do that will take her out into the air to-morrow -if the day is fine. Let me see--what errand can I send her upon? Oh, I -have it, she shall take this check to the bank and bring me the money -for it. By the way, I did not tell you that Mr. Stuart had sent me the -amount of his wife’s bill--here it is--a check for two hundred dollars, -and----” - -Madam Ward’s voice ceased suddenly, for, on chancing to raise her eyes -from the check she was holding in her hand, she saw that the room had -another occupant besides her sister and herself. - -“Why, Mrs. Neville, I did not hear you enter; pray pardon me, and be -seated.” - -Madam drew forward an armchair for her wealthy customer, and Clara -Neville accepted the invitation, laughing heartily at madam’s look of -dismay. - -“Pardon me, my dear madam, I must plead guilty to the crime of -eavesdropping. I was so charmed to hear you speak so kindly of one of -your poor little working girls--won’t you please tell me about this -little Maggie?” - -Madam Ward was pleased at the interest Mrs. Neville appeared to take -in the subject, and at once proceeded to tell all she knew of Maggie -Gordon--which was nothing beyond the fact that Maggie had come there -with Jenny Mason to learn the dressmaking and that she had evidently -been reared in a higher sphere of life, as madam expressed herself, and -lastly that she was growing paler and thinner every day for want of -outdoor exercise. - -Mrs. Neville listened with an expression of deep interest and sympathy -on her face, exclaiming, when madam had concluded: - -“Poor little one! I should like to see her. You are to send her down -to the bank to-morrow, you say, or I should drive down here expressly -to have a glimpse at her, you have interested me so in her story. Of -course, I should come ostensibly on some errand concerning the work you -are doing for me--as I came in reality to-night.” - -“You can do so still, Mrs. Neville. Maggie shall go to the bank about -one o’clock. The business will not occupy more than two hours of her -time, and during the rest of the day you can see her,” replied madam, -failing to notice the quick flash of triumph that glittered in the -lady’s eyes at this piece of information. - -A few minutes later Mrs. Neville took her departure, promising to call -on the morrow; but when the car door was closed upon her she laughed -aloud, muttering, as she glanced back to the house she had just left: - -“If you see either your pretty Maggie or your two hundred dollars after -you send her on that errand to-morrow, it will be because my plan -proves a failure, which I think is scarcely likely to be the case.” - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. IN THE TOILS. - - -All day long, while the eyes of her humble friend Jenny and the rest -of her shopmates were on her, Iris preserved a calm and almost happy -exterior; but when night came, and she lay awake by the sleeping -Jenny’s side, then, indeed, the girl’s young heart was like to break, -and the God in whom she trusted alone knew what she suffered. - -It was a close, sultry day in early springtime, and Iris found great -difficulty in breathing, but she never once raised the thick brown veil -that concealed her face, having a constant horror of meeting Charles -Broughton, or some of the sunny-day friends who might recognize in this -pale little working girl the happy Iris of other days. - -By walking slowly she reached the bank at last, but was unable to get -her check cashed immediately, as there chanced to be quite a number of -people to be served before her. - -One gentleman, noting the weary attitude in which she stood, awaiting -her turn, placed a chair for her behind a large, fluted column near -the paying teller’s window, where she might sit comfortably and partly -concealed from the throng of people around her. - -While Iris was seated in this place, two gentlemen, leaning against -the column behind which she was ensconced, and totally ignorant of her -proximity, were conversing in low, guarded tones, every word uttered -being distinctly audible to Iris. - -She was about to cough, or make some sound that would warn the -gentlemen of her presence, when some words spoken by one of them caused -her to pause. - -She had recognized the voice of Gerald Dare; and Dare had mentioned a -name the very sound of which sent the blood tingling through her veins -like wildfire. - -“I am greatly surprised at the information you have just imparted to -me,” Gerald’s companion said, in answer to something the former had -been telling him; and Gerald hastily resumed: “But the information is -perfectly correct, I assure you. I was somewhat surprised myself, on -first hearing the news, although I don’t know why St. John should not -marry old Hilton’s heiress--the black-browed Isabel is eminently more -suited to him than that pretty little Iris could possibly have been. -Sad affair--that of little Iris, was it not?” - -“I never heard the truth of the girl’s story, Dare, beyond some vague -rumors that she had left Mr. Hilton’s home, and that she was not his -own daughter. I never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Iris but once, -and then I thought her a charming little lady. What was the trouble, -anyhow?” - -Leaning slightly forward in her chair, with a face that was like a mask -of marble behind the thick folds of her veil, Iris listened for Gerald -Dare’s answer, her heart throbbing so wildly that she half feared its -loud pulsations would betray her. - -She could hear the long sigh with which Gerald Dare prefaced his answer -to his friend’s question, and then every word he uttered pierced her -heart, and imprinted itself in characters of fire on her brain. - -“I am sorry to say that the girl is unworthy of sympathy. I confess I -was once sadly smitten with her charms, and when it leaked out that -she had left her old home, I would not have believed any one who had -dared tell me there was any guilty motive for her flight. I had my eyes -opened to the truth in a very short time, however. - -“You know Broughton, do you not? Yes, I mean Charley Broughton; well, -what will you say of Miss Iris when I tell you that I found her at -the house in Lexington Avenue. Ah, you wince, my friend; probably the -mention of this house recalls the memory of many bright dollars lost -inside its walls. - -“Well, it was there I came upon Miss Iris, talking confidentially with -Broughton, in that gentleman’s own private rooms. - -“I was shocked beyond power of expression, and very nearly succeeded -in incurring my host’s enmity by a too evident betrayal of my feelings -on the subject. A couple of days after the encounter I fell across St. -John at the club, and told him where I had seen the girl every one -fancied him in love with. I know you think it was unmanly of me, but -you see I owed St. John an old grudge, and I think I paid it then, in -full. - -“He looked like a dead man for a moment, and I could see him shiver as -if some one had struck him a heavy blow; but he could not have taken -the matter so much to heart as I believed at the time, or society -would not to-day be canvassing the probability of his early marriage -with Isabel Hilton.” - -At this moment another gentleman joined the speakers, and the subject -of St. John and his loves was dropped for the time. - -It would be a task beyond our feeble powers to describe the feelings of -Iris at the time. - -She made no sound, nor gave any outward sign of the torture she was -enduring, nor did she give herself entirely up to the deadly weakness -that was creeping over her. - -She remembered Madam Ward’s check, and watched her opportunity to -present it. - -This accomplished, she left the bank building with slow and faltering -steps, having first concealed the money in her bosom with a vague fear -that she would not long have her senses, or the power to take care of -it. - -Just outside the door of the bank the girl was obliged to raise her -veil, as she seemed literally stifling, and the instant she had done so -a lady, who had been seated in a motor car at the entrance to the bank, -some fifteen minutes before Iris emerged from the building, stepped out -of the vehicle and approached her, exclaiming in a soft, well-modulated -voice: “I beg your pardon, but are you Maggie Gordon, in the employ -of Madam Ward, of Forty-first Street? Yes? How fortunate. I have just -driven down from madam’s on the chance of meeting you. Madam told me -she gave you a sample of silk to match on your way home. The silk is -for my dress, you know, and I chanced to remember that I have two or -three yards of the same material at home, so that it would be only a -useless piece of extravagance to purchase more. If you will step into -the car and drive home with me I will give you the silk, and send my -chauffeur with you to madam’s.” - -Iris merely bowed in token that she was at Clara Neville’s service, -and followed the latter to the machine, volunteering no remark as the -vehicle drove away, and scarcely once glancing toward her companion, -but lying back with closed eyes in a corner of the limousine, with the -brown veil again concealing her white, pained face. - - - - -CHAPTER LV. ISABEL’S BETROTHAL. - - -The handsome residence of Oscar Hilton was ablaze with lights from -basement to attic, and from the long parlors issued the sound of merry -dance music. It was Isabel’s birthday, and Isabel’s dear five hundred -friends had been invited to do honor to the occasion. - -It must have been almost, if not quite, eleven o’clock, and the -festivities were at their height, when a servant made his way through -the dancers to the place where his master stood, with such a look of -alarm on his face, that every one who chanced to see it knew there was -something wrong, or some sad news to be imparted to their host. Hilton -himself turned white as death as he saw the man coming toward him. - -A hush fell upon the assembled guests, and at this most inopportune -moment the music ceased, and one could plainly hear the beating of the -rain against the windows, one of those sudden storms peculiar to early -springtime having arisen unknown to the dancers. - -The servant was speaking in low, cautious tones to his master, but some -of his words came plainly to the ears of the bystanders, among whom -were St. John and Isabel. - -“Miss Iris is outside, sir, an’ she’s sick, I think, fainted dead away. -She’s drenched through with the rain--and--and, oh, sir, I think she’s -a-dyin’. She just came up the stoop a-holdin’ by the rails, an’ when -I opened the door she cried so faintly, sir, ‘mother! mother!’ an’ -fell as if dead at my feet before I could catch her. I laid her in the -reception room, sir--was that right?--an’ I thought it best to tell you -before I frightened Mrs. Hilton.” - -“Quite right, Peter; I will attend to the girl myself,” whispered Mr. -Hilton, unconscious that any other ear than his own had caught Peter’s -words. - -Peter hurried from the room with his eyes suspiciously moistened and -red; he had loved the gentle Iris very dearly. - -Mr. Hilton shortly followed him, pausing first to make a polite apology -to his guests for the necessity which obliged him to tear himself away -from them for a few moments only. - -From what Isabel had overheard, she knew that Iris had returned ill, -and in trouble, at this late hour, and her eyes instinctively sought -those of the man upon whose arm she leaned. - -His face was white and set, and his lips pressed themselves tightly -together, but he did not avoid her gaze. - -He drew her hand closer within his arm, and led her to a spot a little -distance removed from the rest of the company. - -“Isabel,” he said gently, as if he had read aright the fear in her -eyes, “you are my promised wife, and Iris has sinned beyond the -possibility of forgiveness--you need not fear that I will give her one -thought that would be a wrong to you. I know your father will deal -gently with her, but you, Isabel, you who have loved her as a sister -almost all her life, you will be kind to her if she comes to you, -penitent and suffering; will you not promise me this, Isabel, my wife?” - -He spoke the last two words with a peculiar emphasis, as if trying -to impress on his heart and brain that she was really to bear this -relationship to him. - -She smiled up into his face, while tears dimmed her lustrous eyes as -she answered: - -“Were she the vilest sinner on earth, I would receive her -gladly--joyfully, and do everything in my power to reclaim her.” - -As Isabel uttered these words, Chester St. John bent suddenly over her -and touched his lips gently to her forehead. - -It was the first time he had ever caressed her, and the warm blood -crept into her dusky cheeks until they rivaled the crimson of the rose -at her breast, but she knew that the kiss was given only for Iris’ -sake, and her heart grew hard and bitter toward that hapless girl. - -“She shall not return to this house though she die of starvation on -the street,” was Isabel’s thought, and at the very first opportunity -that offered she stole quietly from the room and made her way to the -apartment where she expected to find her father and the unhappy Iris. - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. A CRUEL SUSPICION. - - -“Oh, madam, I cannot work any longer; something terrible has happened -to Maggie; I have felt so uneasy all day about her, and now, see, it is -almost night, and she has not yet returned. I must go and look for her; -my hands tremble so that I can no longer hold my needle.” - -The speaker was Jenny Mason, and the time almost evening of the day on -which Iris had been sent to the bank by Madam Ward. - -“I am beginning to grow the least bit uneasy myself,” exclaimed madam, -while Jenny waited for her permission to quit work. “I think it -probable that Mrs. Neville is detaining her; you know, Jenny, that Mrs. -Neville said she should probably meet Maggie at the bank and drive her -home. If this is the case I shall scold Maggie severely, for she should -certainly know better than to keep me in this suspense all this time. -You may go, Jenny, but I do not think there is any cause for alarm. -Maggie is certainly no baby; she is fully capable of taking care of -herself.” - -Jenny did not wait to hear any further words from her employer. Her -heart was sick with forebodings and fears for the safety of the friend -she loved, and she left the shop in Forty-first Street looking like a -little ghost. - -After Jenny’s departure, Madam Ward grew more uneasy with every passing -moment, and at last, when darkness began to settle over the city, and -the girls were making ready for departure, she called Emma Henry to -her, and asked the latter to go to Mrs. Neville’s residence and see if -the missing girl was still there. - -Emma started upon the errand gladly, for she could hardly have slept -that night without being satisfied of Maggie’s safety. - -She had not been gone ten minutes when madam, whose face was pressed -against the windowpane, uttered an exclamation of intense relief. - -Mrs. Neville’s car was drawing up before the door. - -“At last Maggie has come,” she said, half angrily, and hurried down to -open the door herself in her impatience; but Maggie had not come. - -Mrs. Neville herself stood on the threshold, looking flushed and angry. - -“I declare, madam,” this lady began, “I shall never interest myself -again in a shop girl. I took your pretty Maggie home with me to-day, -and treated her like a lady, and here I find the silk I gave her to -bring to you hidden behind my vestibule door. You know that I am in a -great hurry for my dress, so I thought I would ride down and give you -the silk, as I have other business in this direction. I do not quite -like your favorite, Maggie. She was laboring under intense excitement -to-day, and I confess her conduct displeased me. She refused to be -driven back here in my car, and I think she went to meet some lover. I -hope----” - -But Mrs. Neville never finished her sentence, for madam was wringing -her hands, and weeping violently. - -“It cuts me to the heart to believe that Maggie is a thief,” she was -sobbing, and Mrs. Neville smiled behind her embroidered handkerchief -at the success of her cruel plans, while she affected to sympathize -with the too trusting mistress of the unworthy girl. - - * * * * * - -During the short drive from the bank to the residence of Clara Neville, -Iris preserved an unbroken silence. The shock of the revelation to -which she had been an unwilling listener seemed to have deprived her of -thought or action. - -Arriving at her home, Mrs. Neville requested Iris to follow her to a -room on the second floor--her own boudoir--a pretty little apartment -furnished in the gay, bright colors the widow loved. - -“You had better be seated, girl, for I have a few words to say to you, -and it makes me nervous to see you standing.” - -“If you have any message for madam,” replied Iris, “I beg you will tell -me at once, Mrs. Neville, as I am anxious to return with the money I -have in charge for her. I am afraid she will be anxious if I am delayed -a moment longer than is necessary.” - -Mrs. Neville laughed mockingly at the girl’s impatience to be gone, -and, sinking languidly into the nearest chair, exclaimed: - -“I am very much afraid madam will be forced to endure the pangs -of anxiety for some little time to come. Stay,” as Iris made an -involuntary movement toward the door, “I do not choose that you shall -leave this room until you have answered a few questions I desire to -put to you. In the first place--what are you to Charles Broughton, my -intended husband?” - -Mrs. Neville had sprung to her feet as she uttered the last words, and -placed herself between Iris and the door, looking straight into the -girl’s wide, dilated eyes, and noting the look of horror that crept -into the blue depths at her sudden question. - -She waited a moment for Iris’ answer, but the girl could not speak, -and Mrs. Neville was more than even convinced of the truth of her -suspicions. - -We will spare the reader a repetition of the harsh, unwomanly language -now uttered by the jealous woman, and the cruel epithets she applied to -our unfortunate heroine. - -For one moment only Iris stood listening, and shivering like a frail -flower in a winter gale, and then the faintness that had been growing -upon her all day overcame her, and she lost all knowledge of her -sufferings in a blessed unconsciousness, falling to the floor without a -moan or sigh, and lying at Clara Neville’s feet like one dead. - -The widow knelt beside Iris and unfastened the bosom of her dress, and -Madam Ward’s two hundred dollars fell out upon the carpet. She picked -it up and placed it in her own pocket, smiling triumphantly as she did -so. - -At this moment the sound as of some one breathing startled her, and -looking up quickly she encountered the astonished gaze of Charles -Broughton, who had entered the room unobserved, his footsteps making no -sound on the velvet pile of the carpet. - -He was the first to break the embarrassing silence. - -“What is the meaning of this scene, Clara, and what brought this girl -here?” - -There was nothing of tenderness in his eyes or his voice, as he -motioned carelessly toward the senseless girl, but Clara attributed his -pallor to anxiety for her--Iris--and this belief increased her rage and -jealousy tenfold. - -She reproached him in bitter and cutting language for his supposed -infidelity, and told him the circumstance of her having seen Iris leave -his house on Lexington Avenue. - -Her explanation of the scene Broughton had surprised her in was simple -and plausible. - -“This girl came here to get a piece of silk from me for her employer. -I recognized her as your friend, and my temper got the better of my -reason. - -“She fainted when I told her of the wrong she was doing me--your -promised wife--and as this fact in itself would have convinced me -of her friendship for you, I confess I was bitterly angry; and in -my desire to be revenged upon this little pauper who has succeeded -in destroying my happiness, I would have sent her out of this house -without one penny of the two hundred dollars she had just taken from -the bank for Madam Ward. - -“Now you know all the truth, Charles, and here and now I want you to -choose between us--this pauper--this dressmaker’s apprentice--and -myself.” - -The widow’s face was actually ablaze with anger, and Broughton, knowing -the need he had for her fortune, resolved to conciliate her at all -hazards, regardless of the injury he must do his own child. - -“My dear Clara,” he began, encircling her form with one arm despite -her feeble effort to resist him, “you have caused yourself a world of -unnecessary trouble and heartache. So far from loving this girl am I, -that I may safely assure you the feeling I cherish for her is one more -closely approaching to hatred. I told you on the occasion of my first -meeting with her in the home of your seamstress, Jenny Mason, that her -face reminded me of a woman whom I considered my deadliest enemy. - -“I have since discovered that she is the daughter of this enemy, and I -have to revenge myself on the mother through the child. Some day, my -own Clara, when you are my wife, and our interests are identical, I -shall tell you all the story of my past; but you have assured me over -and over again that you trusted me implicitly, and now is the time to -prove your sincerity. I shall test it to the utmost, Clara, and--but -see, the girl is reviving--keep the money in your own possession until -we can venture to send it to the owner anonymously, and deny all -knowledge of it should she,”--with a careless motion of his head toward -the figure on the floor--“discover its loss before leaving the house, -and----” - -At this moment there was a hasty knock at the door, and the voice of a -servant outside begging the privilege of a few words with her mistress. - -Mrs. Neville left the room to ascertain the cause of this interruption. - -As she passed out of the room, Iris opened wide her blue eyes and -raised herself on her elbow, looking around her in bewilderment. - -The instant her eyes fell on Broughton, who stood coolly looking down -upon her, she remembered the scene through which she had lately passed, -and arose to her feet as rapidly as her feeble strength would allow, -disdaining the aid of his proffered hand. - -The man did not wait for her to speak, but placing a chair for her, -almost forced her to be seated. - -“You must listen to me, my dear,” he began, in the cold, stern voice -she remembered so well. “I know all about the ordeal you have just gone -through, and I have taught Mrs. Neville her error. Are you not tired of -the life you have been living since we parted, Iris? Are you not ready -to accept the offer I made you on the occasion of our last meeting? I -have not interfered with you since then, trusting that time would show -you the folly of your conduct, and now I am ready to renew the offer I -then made you. Will you come with me to my home?” - -Iris had by this time recovered the power of speech, and she would not -allow Broughton to proceed further. - -“What does your offer mean for me--a life of even greater misery than I -have yet endured--a life I blush to name? Dear Heaven, do you know the -shame I have suffered this day, to hear myself branded as a creature -unfit for honest women to notice! You say you have been a convict, -and I know you are now a gambler and the associate of gamblers; yet -acknowledge me as your daughter and I will be your slave. I can bear -anything but----” - -Broughton at this moment checked the speaker by a gesture so fierce and -determined that she shrank from him in actual fear. - -“Cease, girl, and never dare to mention the word convict again in my -presence. What you ask of me is impossible for me to grant. Come with -me to my home. Let the world say of you what it will, you will at -least be secure from want. More than this I cannot do for you. Refuse -the offer, and before the dawn of another day the woman who now employs -you to work for her shall charge you with theft, and accuse you as a -thief before the world.” - -Iris had thrown herself before him in a kneeling attitude, and was -clasping his knees in an agony of supplication. - -At his last words the girl sprang quickly to her feet, repeating in -accents of supreme horror: - -“A thief, a thief! Great Heaven, what can you mean?” - -The footsteps of Mrs. Neville were heard returning along the hallway -now, and Broughton whispered hurriedly: - -“I mean just what I have said. You shall be accused of theft unless -you do my bidding. The two hundred dollars you had in your possession -when you entered this house have been taken from you. If you go back -to Madam Ward without the money, do you think she will believe the -improbable story you would be obliged to tell to account for its loss? -Think over my offer. I shall return to you in a couple of hours, during -which time you shall remain in this room alone. Ah, Clara, my dear,” as -the widow appeared in the doorway, “I was just telling this young lady -you would permit her to remain here until she recovers from the effects -of her swoon,” and before Iris could open her lips to speak, Broughton -had drawn Mrs. Neville with him out of the room, and locked the door on -the outside, leaving Iris for the time a prisoner. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. HOMELESS AND ALONE. - - -It never occurred to Iris to attempt an escape from Mrs. Neville’s -boudoir, until such time as Broughton saw fit to release her. - -At ten o’clock that night Broughton reëntered the room. - -“Well, have you concluded to accept my offer?” he asked sternly, and -the sound of his voice had the effect of rousing the girl as nothing -else could have done. - -“I shall never accept your offer. Let me go, sir; I had rather be -thrown into prison for a theft of which I am innocent than buy my -freedom at such a price.” - -“It will be a noble revenge, my dear, to doom the child of my betrayer -to the same fate I suffered at her hands. Go, now, it is after ten -o’clock, and Madam Ward will be terribly alarmed, you know.” - -He moved aside for Iris to pass out as he concluded, and the girl went -out into the street alone, knowing it would be useless to appeal to him -again or to demand the return of madam’s money. - -“Oh, what shall I do! I dare not face Madam Ward, nor can I go to -Jenny; it would kill me to see a look of distrust in the eyes of -the girl who has loved and trusted me always, and who is now my -only friend. Father in heaven, look down on Thy most wretched child -to-night, and direct her what to do; guide her to some haven of refuge, -or she will die in the streets.” - -She finally determined to go home to her mother. - -Her hand was on the bell knob of the door of her home when the most -cruel memory that had yet dawned upon her made her pause in the act -of ringing. Chester St. John was surely in those lighted parlors--an -honored guest, and the betrothed husband of Isabel, while she, whom he -once loved, was an outcast and homeless, alone in the darkness of the -night and the storm. - -This bitter memory was as the last straw that broke the camel’s back, -and when Peter opened the door, her lips could frame no other word than -that piteous cry for “mother” ere the tortured brain once more gave way. - -She did not faint, or entirely lose consciousness, but a deadly -sickness robbed her limbs of their strength, and Peter was obliged to -lift her into a little room across the hallway, ere he went to acquaint -Mr. Hilton with the fact of her presence. - -Iris would have made her own way to her mother’s apartments when he had -departed on this mission, but it seemed that her limbs were palsied, -and refused to obey her will, or even to bear her slight weight when -she made an attempt to stand on her feet. - -“Was it death that was coming to her?” - -A happy light sprang into her weary eyes as this sweet hope dawned upon -her, and she murmured in a tone loud enough to reach the ears of Mr. -Hilton, who had just entered the room: - -“Mother, you will let me stay with you till it is over; you will not -turn your child out into the streets to die?” - -“Good heavens, girl! Why do you talk of dying? You are raving; what has -happened to you, and why are you here?” - -The last words, harshly and coldly spoken, showed the girl that she had -little mercy to expect at the hands of her mother’s husband. - -“Let me see my mother--I am ill--dying, I think--and I--I have no one -else in all the world,” she said faintly, holding to the back of a -chair for support as she arose from the couch on which Peter had laid -her. - -“I cannot grant your request, Iris,” he said coldly. “By your own -conduct you have forfeited your right to hold any manner of intercourse -with my wife. If you are ill I will give you some money, and send -Peter to take you to your lodgings, but this is all I can promise--ah, -Isabel, my daughter, why did you follow me here? Go back to your -guests.” - -The bright head of Iris had drooped lower and lower while Hilton spoke -until it rested on the back of the chair, but as he addressed Isabel, -she--Iris--raised her eyes, with the vague hope that the girl whom she -had loved as a sister would say some word in her favor. - -“Isabel, I have only asked to see my mother,” she faltered, but Isabel -retorted coldly: - -“I fully agree with papa that it is impossible. How could you come -here to-night, Iris, when you know how the world is talking of your -disgraceful conduct. You must go away quietly----” - -“Isabel!” - -The voice that had spoken the name proceeded from the doorway, where -Chester St. John was standing, gazing into the room with eyes that -were dark with scorn and anger, and a face white as that of Iris -herself. - -“Chester,” Isabel exclaimed, with an air of injured innocence and a -reproachful glance toward the motionless figure in the doorway, “you -think we are cruel and harsh to Iris; but you cannot understand that in -denying her request to-night we were seeking to spare her the bitter -knowledge that her own mother absolutely refuses to admit her, or to -speak to her if she were dying. Is not this the truth, papa?” - -“It is certainly true, St. John,” he answered. “I would have spared -this unfortunate girl, had such a thing been at all possible; but my -wife positively declines to have anything to do with her daughter now, -or at any time in the future. Mrs. Hilton is even weaker to-night -than usual, and--but,” with a sudden assumption of pride and offended -dignity, “I do not really know why I am making these explanations to -you, St. John; as my daughter’s accepted suitor, the affairs of this -girl cannot concern you; and I think you will do me the justice to -confess that I, who have fed and clothed and sheltered Iris Tresilian -until she left my home of her own accord, and for what purpose you -know--am fully capable of dealing justly with her now.” - -“I understand your reproof, sir, and while I acknowledge that I have no -right to dictate to you in this matter, I will still beg leave to say a -word in the interests of common humanity. Had I never looked upon Iris -Tresilian’s face I should still protest against a young creature like -her being sent out on such a night, unprotected and alone. If she has -sinned----” - -At the last words of St. John, “If she has sinned,” spoken in a -sorrowful tone that told how firmly he believed in her guilt, all -her soul seemed to rise in passionate rebellion, and with the false -strength despair sometimes lends, Iris advanced toward the group -near the doorway, and stood before them, a little, solitary figure, -with white, set features, whose immobility would have been actually -startling but for the convulsive twitching of the muscles of the -colorless lips, and the large, blue eyes dilated like those of a hunted -stag. - -“Of what sin am I accused, Mr. Hilton?” she asked. “For what crime does -my mother condemn me so harshly?” Then turning suddenly to St. John, -before Hilton could answer: “I left this gentleman’s home because he -taught me that I had no claim upon him--that I, who had believed myself -his daughter, was the child of an unworthy father whose name I should -blush to bear. I went forth from this house to earn my own bread, and -since that time I have done nothing of which I need be ashamed, nor----” - -She came to a sudden stop here, while for a moment the color grew -deeper and deeper in her face, and then faded utterly, leaving her -again deadly pale. - -She had thought of Gerald Dare’s words, and the suspicions her presence -in the house of Charles Broughton had awakened. - -Her sudden hesitation and confusion, and the ineradicable flush -of shame that had dyed her cheeks at this cruel memory, seemed to -contradict her previous assertion of innocence, and to shake the faith -new-born in Chester St. John’s heart. - -At Iris’ first words Oscar Hilton had trembled lest there should -be something said concerning the forged letter, and he now seized -this moment of the girl’s embarrassment to turn the drift of the -conversation into a new channel. - -“My poor child,” he ejaculated, in a tone of well-feigned sympathy, -“do not seek to defend your conduct. Unhappily we have all been made -acquainted with the manner in which you have passed your time since -leaving my protection. If--as you say--you are innocent, will you be -good enough to tell us what you are to the noted gambler and roué, -Charles Broughton?” - -At this coarse and rude question Iris started violently, and looked -into the face of the speaker with an expression of actual terror, -fearing for the moment that he had in some manner learned the secret of -Broughton’s identity. - -That one swift glance into his eyes reassured her. She knew that he -shared, or pretended to share, the common belief that Broughton was her -lover, and she dared say nothing to undeceive him. - -“I can tell you nothing at present, but some time you will know all, -and learn how deeply you have wronged me. My mother will forgive me -then, and bitterly regret her cruelty.” - -She took a step toward the door as she concluded, keeping her eyes -turned resolutely away from the face of Chester St. John, lest the -sight of it should rob her of the last remnant of strength she was -struggling so hard to maintain. - -Isabel had thrown herself into an easy-chair near the door, and was -holding her handkerchief to her face as if deeply affected by the -scene, while Oscar Hilton was perhaps the most excited of all the -little group. - -He feared to detain Iris lest something should be said to betray his -plot, and he dared not let her go forth alone lest St. John should -follow to protect her, and thus learn all the truth. - -Mr. Hilton himself was puzzled to account for the mystery of Iris’ -connection with Broughton, for, from his own experience of his wife’s -beautiful daughter, he knew her to be pure as the untrodden snow, and -utterly incapable of the sin of which she stood accused. - -Whatever the cause of the singular emotion she had betrayed at his -chance mention of Broughton’s name, he--Hilton--was satisfied with the -effect upon St. John, seeing as he did that the latter’s newly awakened -faith in the girl he had loved so devotedly was again shattered. - -Mr. Hilton made haste to respond to Iris’ last words before St. John -had time to speak, if such had been that gentleman’s intention. - -“My dear child, if you can prove to us that we have wronged you, I, for -one, shall be happy, both for your own sake and that of the woman who -bears my name, your mother; and now, Iris, I shall appropriate the car -of one of my guests to take you to your home, as you are looking weak -and ill, and it is nearly midnight. St. John, I may have your machine -for this purpose, may I not?” - -At this direct appeal, Chester--who had crossed the room, and -stood leaning against the low marble mantel, with his eyes bent on -the floor, and his face pale with an agony he did not endeavor to -conceal--advanced quickly to the spot on which Iris stood, with a look -in his eyes that filled Oscar Hilton with fear. - -St. John was about to ask Iris a question which would have betrayed him. - -He was about to ask her where was the man whose fortune she had left -her home to follow, that he might have constituted himself her champion -and avenger, had he discovered that this lover had basely deserted or -deceived her. - -At this moment light footsteps were heard approaching the door, and a -sweet, girlish voice calling gayly: - -“Chester! Isabel! Where are you, truants?” as the door was thrown open -unceremoniously to admit a fairylike vision in the person of pretty, -golden-haired Grace St. John, who had been Iris Tresilian’s most -intimate and best-loved friend. - -“Ah, brother Chester, how wicked of you to keep Belle all this time -from her friends; we shall be obliged----” - -Grace’s merry voice ceased all of a sudden, for her eyes had fallen -on the pale, drooped face of Iris, and although Chester made an -involuntary movement as if to step between them--a movement Iris -understood but too well, the impulsive Grace sprang quickly to the side -of the outcast, and clasped her white arms around the latter’s neck, -crying joyously: - -“Oh, Iris, darling, I am so glad to see you; I have missed you so--I -shall be so happy now that you have come home, but, Iris, dear, why do -you sob so bitterly?” - -At the first word of kindness, and the first touch of Grace’s caressing -hands, Iris had broken down utterly, and her slender frame was racked -with hoarse, convulsive sobs that were pitiful to hear. - -Mr. Hilton addressed St. John in a harsh, imperative tone: - -“Take your sister and Isabel back to the parlors while I attend to -Iris. This is no scene for either of them.” - -Iris heard these words, and put aside Grace’s clinging arms. - -“Let me go, Gracie, dear; I am no fit associate for you now,” she said -sadly and bitterly, walking with tottering steps toward the door as -she spoke; but Grace St. John reached it before her and prevented her -egress. - -“Wait, Iris; I must understand this scene,” she said firmly, her pretty -white-rose face growing paler than its wont, and her blue eyes glancing -reproachfully from face to face. “I do not understand why you left -your home, Iris. I only know that some great sorrow or misfortune has -fallen on you, and changed you almost beyond recognition. I have loved -you like a sister since you and I were little children, and yet you say -you are no fit associate for me now, Iris! What do you mean? Why do you -speak of leaving this house at such an hour, darling? If these doors -are closed against you, you shall come home with me. Don’t shudder and -shake your head; I tell you, Iris, there is no barrier strong enough to -separate us, unless--unless”--the girl hesitated, while a faint tinge -of color crept into her white face--“unless you had sinned beyond even -a mother’s forgiveness, and----” - -The cold, metallic tones of Oscar Hilton’s voice here interposed: - -“Miss St. John, it grieves me beyond the power of words to express, but -I am forced to tell you the truth, that this scene may be no longer -prolonged. Iris Tresilian has sinned beyond a mother’s forgiveness. My -wife has cast her out of her heart, and forbidden me to receive her -again in my home. She----” A suppressed cry from Isabel checked the -words he was about to have added, and, following the glance of his -daughter’s eyes, he saw the cause of her alarm. - -The door near which Grace and Iris were standing had been pushed softly -open, and Evelyn Hilton was crossing the threshold, moving slowly, with -her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes bent downward. - -She was attired in a long, loose white wrapper, and her fair hair, -escaped from its fastenings, hung far below her waist, giving her a -singularly weird and ghostlike appearance. - -Oscar Hilton’s face grew white as marble, and great beads of -perspiration stood out thickly on his forehead. - -“She is asleep!” he whispered. - -“Not a sound for your lives. A sudden awakening would cause her -death--I have been warned.” - -This was indeed true. Mrs. Hilton was a confirmed somnambulist, and her -doctor feared that a sudden awakening from one of these spells would -sooner or later prove fatal. - -“Steal quietly out of the room, and leave her alone with me,” said -Hilton, in the same low whisper; but even while he spoke he saw that -this would be impossible, for the sleepwalker had paused directly in -the doorway, and stood in such a position that it would have been -impossible for any one to pass out without touching her, and the very -lightest touch would have awakened her. - -There was a moment of intense silence, broken only by the heavy -breathing of the sleeping woman. - -Iris trembled like a leaf in a storm, and was scarcely conscious -that it was Chester St. John’s firm hand that had forced her into an -easy-chair, against the back of which he was now leaning, with his face -hidden in his hands. - -Presently the lips of the somnambulist opened, and she spoke, slowly -and distinctly: - -“Don’t ask me to do it, Oscar; I’ve been a bad, unfeeling mother -always, but I cannot do this thing; it is such a cruel letter--it will -make Chester St. John despise her--I can copy her handwriting--yes--I -know--but to say she left her home for an unworthy lover--while I know -that all her heart is given to him--to Chester--no! no! Oscar! Don’t -threaten to betray my secret--I will write--anything--anything you -dictate----” - -Tears were streaming down the poor, wan cheeks of the unfortunate woman -now, while Iris with difficulty checked her own wild sobbing, and -Chester St. John whispered hoarsely: - -“What can this mean!” And dropping on his knees, weak as a fainting -woman, hid his face on the arm of the chair in which Iris reclined. - -Oscar Hilton had crept noiselessly to his daughter’s side, and was -pressing his hand firmly on her shoulder to prevent her from making any -outcry; for, base and worldly as this man was, he loved his wife with -all the strength of which his selfish nature was capable, and bore even -this betrayal of his baseness rather than silence her at the risk of -her life. - -Again there was a moment of silence, while the fingers of the sleeper -made the motions of writing, slowly and carefully, pausing often, and -bending her head as if to study some written page before her. - -She seemed to have finished at last, all to the signing of the name, -and this she repeated aloud: - -“Iris Tresilian,” adding, after a brief pause, during which she had -sobbed like a child: “It is done, Oscar. I have bought your silence at -the price of my daughter’s reputation, even as I purchased wealth at -the cost of my husband’s honor.” - -The last words were spoken very faintly, and Mrs. Hilton now came -farther into the room, with her hands outstretched as if searching for -something. - -“My chair, Oscar; wheel it close to the fire,” she whispered, and -Hilton sprang forward quickly to place a chair for her; but in his -agitation his foot struck against a small ormolu stand upon which -Isabel had placed a glass tank containing several gold fishes. - -The stand was overturned, and the glass fell with a loud crash, -shattered to pieces on the floor. - -The eyes of the somnambulist sprang wide open; she gazed wildly -from one to another of the surrounding faces, and with a cry that -echoed from basement to attic, fell to the ground, writhing in strong -convulsions. - -“Good God, I have killed her!” And Oscar Hilton threw himself -frantically on his knees beside her, while the guests, attracted by -that wild and pitiful cry, came thronging to the spot, and Iris, -sobbing out the words: “Mamma! Oh, my poor mother!” attempted to reach -the spot where the latter lay, but fell back, feeble and helpless as an -infant, in Chester St. John’s outstretched arms. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII. THE ARREST. - - -In less than half an hour after Mrs. Hilton’s cry had alarmed the -ladies and gentlemen assembled to do honor to Isabel Hilton in this -celebration of her birthday, the house was cleared of every guest with -the exception of Grace and Chester St. John. - -“Go home, dear, and trust me to take care of Iris as if she were indeed -your sister,” Chester had said to Grace; but pretty Grace had answered -with a decision and dignity quite new to her: - -“No, Chester; you believed that Iris was guilty--you were false to her -when she most needed a true friend; but I could never doubt her, and I -shall stay beside her now to give help and what comfort I may in the -trial I see before her.” - -“God bless you for your faith in her, my sweet sister!” answered -Chester huskily, as he laid the trembling form of Iris out of his arms, -back into the chair from which she had arisen, ere he hurried from the -house to bring the doctor to Mrs. Hilton. - -While he was absent on this errand, Isabel, who realized, with a -sickening sense of desolation and misery, that St. John was lost to her -forever, escaped to her own apartments, where she locked herself in, -refusing to admit even her maid until the afternoon of the following -day. - -St. John returned with a doctor in less than fifteen minutes. Mrs. -Hilton was still in convulsions, and the physician saw at a glance -that her case was hopeless. - -He gave his decision promptly and without any unnecessary beating -around the bush. - -“I will do all that is possible to relieve your wife’s sufferings, Mr. -Hilton, but it is beyond the power of mortal skill to save her. She may -linger with intervals of consciousness for several days, and she may -pass away before daylight; but in any case I have not the faintest hope -of her recovery.” - -Mr. Hilton groaned aloud at these words, while Iris wept bitterly. - -The latter had not entirely lost consciousness, but that sickening -feeling of weakness robbed her limbs of their strength, and she could -not for her life have arisen from the chair in which Chester had placed -her, until nearly an hour had passed, and Chester and Grace were -preparing to take their departure. - -Mrs. Hilton had been carried upstairs to her own apartments, but Mr. -Hilton still lingered, waiting in an agony of impatience for the St. -Johns to leave the house. - -Iris scarcely heard Grace’s words of farewell, but every tone of -Chester’s voice thrilled her heart to its inmost core, as he bent over -her chair and clasped both her hands in his own. - -“Iris, there has been treachery and deceit at work--and through my -belief in your guilt I have lost you. Oh, this is killing me!” - -He had crushed her passive hands so tightly in his agony and regret -that she with difficulty repressed a cry of pain, and then he -hurriedly left the room, murmuring as he threw himself back among the -car cushions by his sister’s side: - -“Oh, if I had only trusted her, but my hand was the first to fling a -stone at her memory, my heart the first to fail in its allegiance, and -now I am pledged to another, and she----” - -He could no longer carry out this bitter train of thought, it almost -maddened him to think of Iris as he had left her, remaining on -sufferance in the home from which she was an outcast, and where her -mother lay dying. - -After his departure Iris grew stronger, and, clasping Oscar Hilton’s -hand in passionate pleading, begged to be allowed to nurse her mother -until the end. - -“Oh, sir, please do not refuse me--I will intrude not one hour -after--after all is over,” she sobbed, and, broken and weakened by the -shock of this sudden calamity, Mr. Hilton reluctantly consented for -her to stay, and a few moments later Iris took her position beside her -unconscious mother’s bed, prepared to do her duty faithfully to the -end, although she knew now that this mother’s hand had doomed her to -all the sorrow she had been forced to endure. - -Toward noon on the following day Evelyn Hilton recovered consciousness, -and, on recognizing her daughter, appeared much pleased, and sank into -a heavy slumber, after whispering a few words which were heard by Iris -alone. - -“I will tell you everything, my daughter, when I wake, and you must try -to forgive me.” - -But, alas! before she again awakened, the greatest trial of Iris’ life -had come to her, and the mother’s eyes were doomed to look no more on -her child’s face on this side of the grave. - -As early as was at all consistent with the rules of etiquette St. John -and Grace called to inquire for the sufferer. - -Isabel received them, looking unusually handsome in her bright, crimson -morning robe, with all the rich color faded out of her dark face, and -her lips quivering piteously as she reported that dear mamma was not -any better, and that she--Isabel--was forced to stay out of the sick -room because she could not listen to poor mamma’s wild and improbable -fancies. - -Grace understood the yearning look in her brother’s eyes, and proffered -a timid request for a word with Iris; but Isabel declared that Iris -could not be induced to leave her mother’s bedside for a moment, and -the visitors could not persist any further. - -During their brief stay she found an opportunity of speaking alone with -Chester. - -“This is a cruel trial, dear Chester; I long to hear some words of -sympathy from your lips; I have sore need of your love now; it is all -so lonesome and terrible with papa always in the sick room, and the -house silent as the grave.” - -She had clasped her small hands on his shoulder, and bent her head upon -them, so that her face was very near his own; but although Chester -smoothed her dark, glossy hair with a gentle touch, he did not give -her the caress she expected, for between them there arose a vision -he could not banish--the vision of a sweet mignonne face, a pair of -limpid, violet eyes, and a pretty, bright-tressed head that he had -lately seen bowed in bitter sorrow. - -The struggle going on within his heart was almost maddening. Could -he, with his chivalrous sense of honor, ask this girl, who had openly -confessed her love for him, to release him from his promise, that he -might devote his life to the clearing of Iris Tresilian’s name, and -afterward to the task of winning Iris’ forgiveness for having doubted -her? - -His conscience told him his first duty was to the woman who was his -promised wife, and for the first time in his life he found it hard to -obey this silent, inward voice. - -While he was taking his leave of Isabel a loud ring at the doorbell -startled them, and his heart throbbed with an unaccountable feeling of -foreboding. - -Grace was already in the vestibule, and opened the door before a -servant had time to answer the summons. Two men stood on the doorstep, -one of whom exclaimed, without preface: - -“We are looking for a girl whose name, we believe, is Aris, or Iris -Tresilian, but who calls herself Maggie Gordon.” - -While speaking the man had coolly unbuttoned his coat and exhibited a -shining shield, at sight of which Grace uttered a cry of terror, and -clung to her brother’s arm, trembling in every limb. - -“Great heavens! There is some terrible mistake,” ejaculated Chester, -asking, as the men came across the threshold: “With what do you -charge Iris Tresilian?” to which the man replied in his usual cool, -matter-of-fact tone: - -“With the theft of two hundred dollars. Madam Marie Ward, of -Forty-first Street, is her accuser.” - - - - -CHAPTER LIX. “GOOD-BY.” - - -“Miss Tresilian accused of theft! There is--there must be some terrible -mistake!” ejaculated Chester St. John, while Grace clung to his arm, -pale and shivering, and Isabel, after the first shock of surprise was -over, actually rejoiced in the new disgrace that had fallen on her -rival, since it must serve to place Iris beyond the pale of Chester’s -forgiveness. - -“I shall send upstairs for Iris, that these men may see their mistake,” -she said confidently, and Grace, taking courage from her firm and -determined manner, now ventured to speak, begging Isabel to break the -news to Iris gently, lest the shock should be too much for her. But the -caution came just too late; for even while Grace was speaking, Iris was -descending the stairs, her light footfall making no sound on the soft -velvet pile of the carpet, and the sound of Grace’s low-toned voice -coming distinctly to her ears. - -“What is it?” she cried breathlessly, and one of the men whose business -it was to arrest her stepped forward and answered: - -“We have a painful duty to perform, young lady, and the quicker it is -over the better for all parties. The name by which you have been known -of late is Maggie Gordon, is it not? You are certainly the original of -this portrait.” - -The speaker here exhibited a penciled sketch of the beautiful working -girl, executed by the sister of Madam Ward, an amateur artist of no -mean ability. At sight of this drawing St. John could not repress a -groan, while Grace bowed her head and wept, and Isabel turned a shade -paler. Iris herself was outwardly calm, but her eyes had the wild, -scared look of a hunted animal, and fixed themselves for one brief -second on the face of Chester St. John, as if mutely appealing to him -for aid. - -The look went straight to his heart, and, leaving his place by the side -of Isabel, he spoke to Iris in a tone that was tremulous with deep -feeling: - -“Depend on me, Iris; I shall do everything in my power to clear you of -this cruel charge. There must be some bitter enemy plotting against -your peace and happiness, some bold and daring enemy, since they dare -accuse you of theft! Oh, child, if you would only tell me everything I -might save you this indignity----” - -“Hush! Do not speak to me so; I--I cannot bear it,” she cried -passionately, for the struggle to keep silent in the face of this -appeal was almost killing her. She dared not speak. She dared not utter -one word that might betray the author of her sufferings and her shame, -lest all the shameful story of the past should be revealed and disgrace -and dishonor fall on her dying mother. - -It was the opinion of the doctors that life might linger in the poor, -worn frame of Evelyn Hilton for many days, although they had believed -at the time of her attack that her very minutes were numbered. While -her mother still lived, Iris’ lips were effectually sealed, and, -recovering at last from the emotion into which St. John’s words had -thrown her, she turned to him with the light of desperation in her -wide, dilated eyes, and a reckless defiance on her face that filled him -with horror and alarm. - -“I have nothing to tell you, Mr. St. John. I cannot explain the loss -of madam’s two hundred dollars, and I must expect to suffer the -consequences. If these men will allow me to get my hat and cloak, and -will wait just one moment while I bid my mother a last farewell, I -shall be ready to accompany them.” - -She avoided meeting St. John’s eyes as she spoke thus, and turned -abruptly from him to the officers in the doorway. “You will not refuse -me one moment with my mother, gentlemen, for, oh, sirs, she is dying; -we shall meet no more on earth.” - -There was not a break or a quiver in the girl’s voice now, but the -look of dumb agony on her ashen face would have melted a heart of -oak, and the men readily agreed to wait until she joined them, first -ascertaining, however, that there was no back exit by which she might -effect an escape. When she had disappeared up the broad staircase, St. -John turned to Isabel, inquiring the whereabouts of her father, with -the vague idea that Mr. Hilton would in some manner be able to save -Iris--a hope that died again instantly as he remembered Iris’ avowal, -which had amounted almost to a confession of guilt. - -Isabel explained that her father had gone to Riverdale, the residence -of an eminent physician, said to be skilled in the treatment of the -disease of which Mrs. Hilton was dying, and might not be at home before -evening. - -“What is to be done? I would give half my fortune to spare her -this awful ordeal,” cried Chester, in despair. “Oh, men,” turning -desperately to the officers, “can any amount of money tempt you to go -away and leave Iris Tresilian in peace? I will go at once to this woman -to whom the lost money belonged, and repay it, aye, with interest, if -she will withdraw her charge, and----” - -“It is no use, sir,” interrupted one of the officers; “the charge has -been made, and it is our duty to take the young lady into custody. I am -truly sorry, sir, but I assure you there is no help for it.” - -St. John realized the truth of this assertion, and knew he could do -nothing at present for the unfortunate Iris. - -“Come, Grace,” he said, gently addressing his weeping sister in a voice -that one would scarcely have recognized as his own, “let me take you to -the machine. Go home at once, dear, and leave me to see what steps may -be taken in this dreadful affair. Your loyalty to Iris has taught me a -lesson, Gracie, and from this hour she shall find in me as faithful a -brother as you have been a sister to her.” - -Grace allowed him to lead her to the car, saying, as he was closing the -door upon her: - -“She is innocent, brother; there is some enemy trying to work her -ruin. Be a friend to her in her hour of need, for she seems to stand -alone--even Isabel----” - -“Hush, darling; not a word of Isabel. I have asked her to be my wife,” -interrupted St. John, adding, in a tone of ineffable tenderness: “God -bless you for your faith in Iris, little sister, and God forgive me -for the wrong I have done her by my cruel doubts.” - -As St. John’s car drove away a taxicab was passing along, and the -gentleman hailed it and placed it at the disposal of the officers to -convey Iris to prison. - -In the meantime Iris had stolen softly into her mother’s chamber, and -fallen on her knees by her bedside. Mrs. Hilton was still sleeping, and -could not hear the girl’s low sobbing, nor the broken, inarticulate -words that fell from her lips. - -“Oh, mother, my mother, if you could speak one kind, pitying word to -me it would not be so hard to suffer for your sake. If you could hear -me when I pray for you, if you could join me in asking God to forgive -your sin. Oh, dear Saviour! Thou hearest me. Wilt Thou let my suffering -atone for this dying mother’s sin?” - -As if the Divine Comforter had lifted some portion of the burden from -her well-nigh broken heart, Iris arose from her knees and bent closely -over the sleeper. - -“This is our last earthly parting,” she whispered, as she touched her -lips softly to those of the unconscious sufferer. “Your child will see -your face on earth no more. Good-by--good-by--my poor, poor mother; I -leave you in God’s keeping--good-by, good-by.” - -Iris now hurried from the room, lest the sound of her choking sobs -might arouse the sleeper, and a few moments later she left the house, -going forth with the calmness of utter despair to meet her fate. - - - - -CHAPTER LX. CONCLUSION. - - -As the motor car containing Iris and the officers rolled away from -Oscar Hilton’s home, Peter, the servant who had admitted Iris on the -preceding evening, stood in the area looking after the vehicle with a -perplexed and sorrowful expression on his good-natured face. - -A stranger came up excitedly, threw a hasty glance at the departing -machine, and with a nervous gesture turned toward the servant. - -“I say, my man,” said the stranger, addressing Peter, “is this the -residence of Mr. Hilton? I have been sent to see the sick lady--his -wife.” - -Peter’s thoughts were traveling after Iris, and he readily believed -that the man was a new physician engaged by Mr. Hilton. - -“If you will step this way, sir, I will escort you to Mrs. Hilton’s -chamber.” - -In less than five minutes the stranger was at the bedside of the -stricken woman. - -Mrs. Hilton opened her eyes, and shivered slightly as she met the man’s -gaze. At first she did not recognize him. Then with a low moan she -gasped: - -“You? What do you want?” - -“I see you recognize me, my dear wife,” replied the stranger, who was -none other than Carleton Tresilian, alias Charles Broughton. “You are -sick unto death, and I have come to torture you, to cause you some -little bit of suffering in your dying moments to repay you for the -intense suffering that you have caused me all these years. I am going -to have my revenge. Listen while I tell you of my plans for vengeance.” - -Before the wretched woman could reply, Tresilian unfolded the story of -his meeting with Iris, his pursuit of her until she had been arrested -charged with the theft of two hundred dollars from Madam Ward. From -time to time during the recital of his cold-blooded plan of revenge a -spasm of pain crossed the features of the unhappy woman. - -“You have one chance to save your daughter, and that is by signing a -confession to the crime for which I assumed the blame. If you refuse to -do this, then I will publish to the world not only your shame, but your -daughter’s shame as well. Will you sign?” - -For a brief moment there was a terrific mental struggle on the part -of Mrs. Hilton. She was still proud, and she was almost willing -to sacrifice her daughter in order to save, if possible, her own -connection with Carleton Tresilian. She realized that she was on the -brink of death, and the fear of punishment hereafter was evidently -strong upon her. - -“Yes,” she finally faltered, “I will sign the confession, but only to -save my daughter’s honor.” - -Tresilian quickly wrote out the confession and summoned a couple -of servants to witness the signing of the document. His business -completed, he quickly left the house, but he had hardly passed from the -portals of the palatial home when Mrs. Hilton breathed her last. - -He hurried to the home of Mrs. Neville, where, after a stormy scene, -the woman promised to return the money to Madam Ward and thus clear -Iris of the terrible charge hanging over her. When a messenger had been -called and dispatched with the money, Tresilian, before Mrs. Neville -could interfere, jerked a revolver from his pocket and committed -suicide. - -When the effects of the dead man were examined, Mrs. Hilton’s -confession was found in his pocket. - -With the astounding discovery that the girl whom he loved most in all -the world was guiltless of any wrongdoing, Chester St. John pleaded -with Isabel for the release from his irksome engagement. She, with -a woman’s quick intuition, realized that she could never hold his -affections, and reluctantly gave him up. - -Eventually Iris married the man whom she loved, and shortly after the -wedding Mr. and Mrs. Frank Laurier gave a large reception in honor of -the newlyweds. All during the succeeding years the affection between -Iris and Jessie grew, and they became the dearest and most affectionate -friends, both realizing the terrible experiences through which each had -passed. - -THE END. - -“She Could Not Tell” will be the title of the next volume, No 944, of -the NEW EAGLE SERIES. The forthcoming story is from the pen of Ida -Reade Allen, and it is a most delightful tale of love, romance, hate, -and intrigue. It is the kind of novel that you will not put down until -you have finished it. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: Delicious THE COCA-COLA CO., ATLANTA, GA.] - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Punctuation has been made consistent. - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have -been corrected. - -The following changes were made: - -p. 192: for changed to of (news of her) - -p. 273: He changed to She (She made a) - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LET US KISS AND PART *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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