Waverley Library (Octavo Edition) (no. 4) (1884 06 17)
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> $2,50 a Year, ‘MARRIED IN HASTE; = Or,“AiYoung Girl’s Temptation. BY RETT WINWOOD, AUTHOR or *'whFE oR WIDOW,” ‘A MAN’S SIN,” ETC. | CHAPTER If. THE SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. Tas is the advertisement she found staring at her like the eye of fate from the columns of a daily paper some one had left lying on one of the factory benches: j No. 8% Willtam Street, New York. Say 4 arte Vex ti \ Price, Five Cents. ‘Next or Kin.—Should the heirs of the late Gar- rison Dreeme see this advertisement, 2 § are re- p beats to communicate immediately with the un- dersigned, from whom they will hear something to their advantage, Jones & Brown, 25 Client street, New York.” The pretty young girl pushed the clustering curls of silken brown hair away from her fore- head and stared at the notice in astonishment, | What didit mean? She was Drusilla Dreeme, only child of the Garrison Dreeme mentioned in the advertisement. But she had been a poor, friendless waif since her father's death, five years before, and had not supposed there was
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2 MARRIED IN HASTE, " an. bie a she lived, who felt an interest in her ‘ate. 3 ‘*Some rich relative may have died, and left me a fortune,” she said to herself with a bitter laugh. ‘1 am sure it would be very welcome.” Clang! clang! clang! went the harsh factory bill; the deafening din and ponderous revolutions of the machinery began again, and weary, haggard ratives came pouring into the huge building through every door. No more time for dreams or, idle speculations. Thrusting the paper into her pocket, Drusilla went quietly to her usual place, and the labors of the afternoon began. Never had the hours seemed to go by so laggingly. The stifling air, smelling of rancid oil and filled with dust and particles of fly- ing lint, the perpetual din, the noisy revolutions of the spindles—how she hated them all! No wonder her thoughts dwelt eagerly and longingly upon the advertisement fate had thrown in her way. “Tt was certainly intended for me,” she said. * How thankful I shall be if it brings release from the drud ah of this hateful life!” The girl at the next loom, a pale brunette, watched = Bet ance, from time to time. Presently she spoke: sh? penny for your thoughts, Drusy. Are you ming of palaces, and marble halls?” ‘Yes,’’ was the quiet response. The girl tossed her head, laughing half-scornfully. “Dream on, then. It comforts and encourages one, But these black floors and discolored walls are near the reality as you andI are likely to at- n. ; The long afternoon drew toaclose. At last the blessed signal for release was sounded. Drusilla tied on her hat with trembling fingers, and hurried out of the close, stifling atmosphere with the mental prayer that she might never breathe it again. Mrs. Templeton’s humble cottage stood in a quiet side-street; not far away. It was a pretty pace, ly larger than a humming-bird’s nest. ut it ieeneat yard, planted with flowers, and a wilder- ness of vines and wild roses clambered over the tiny ie ave arly noble face, who sat at a table lit- ers, wYiting rapidly. ‘Templeton, the son of the poor hom Drusilla had found a home. By ‘rhuman exertions the young man had ough a college career, studied for a d within the past month hung out his AS attorney at law. y found clients slow in coming, however, and in the mean while was struggling hard to support himself and mother by doing such copying as was to be procured from rival and more prosperous S. Drusilla’s pretty face clouded over as she noticed how deeply the young man was engaged. She had come home tired, restless and nervous, full of specu- lation in regard to the advertisement. Ward Tem- pleton was her lover; she wanted his sympathy and advice—to discuss the matter freely with him and obtain his assistance, ; “Please lay aside your work for to-night, Ward,” she said, “ and give this one evening to me.” ' He looked up with a loving smile, but gravely shook his head. “I wish it were possible, Drusy. But I promised to have these deeds copied before ten o’clock,”’ “Give me half an hour, at least. I have something to say to you.” He sighed. “T have not a moment to spare. My employers must not be disappointed. Wait until to-morrow,” Drusilla Dreeme was scareely herself that night. Instead of patiently submitting to the delay, she burst into a storm of petulant tears, body in the world, aside from the Templetons / —s “It is always so. Your evenings are given to that eternal copyi You would rather disappoint me than your employers.”’ Ward gave her a emp glance, his handsome face growing unutterably sad. “Why, Drusy!’’ he exclaimed; ‘t never saw you like this before. You must be ill.” “So I am,” she said. ‘Sick to death of this dreary, barren life so full of drudgery and pain, with not a single gleam of brightness to make it endurable! Would to Heaven I might get away from it all!” i The young man dropped his and rising, stood beside her. Never before had he heard her give ut- terance to such feelings, and his dark, earnest eyes were full of pain. “Are you tired of me, as well as of the life you lead, Drusy?” he asked, striving to be calm. ‘*]—I—don’t know,’’-she sobbed. “The future looks dark and hopeless. _What have we to expect? It will require years for you to become established in your profession.” *T am working hard, Drusy—I am doing my best,” he interrupted, a deep sadness in hisvoice, Then he drew back, gazing at her earnestly. “This wearing night work is for your sake,” he added. ‘I would work my fingers to the bone, and never complain; but, as you say, years of weary waiting lie before us. Drusilla, it was wrong to ex- tort a promise from you. You are young, beautiful, full of life and ambition. You ht do much bet- ter for yourself. It is not right that you should wear out the best Jae of your life waiting for me. I blame myself for not having thought of this before. I release you from your agement.” At another time Drusilla would have laid her aching head upon his shoulder, and clinging to him with penitential tears, a ed his forgiveness, But now a strange unrest fired her blood and beat at her rebellious heart. . “You are very kind,” she said, with a scornful toss of her golden-brown head, ‘‘I feel it my duty to accept the liberty so generously given.” She would not even look at him again, but sweep- ing proudly past, ascended the stairs, and shut her- self into her tiny chamber under the roof. All inclination to show the advertisement to Ward had vanished. She threw herself upon the dainty white couch, crushing the newspaper in her hand, and sobbing as though her heart would break. “He is cold and cruel,” she told herself. ‘He has no sympathy with my dreams and longings. He thinks more of his future career than of mine.” After a moment’s thought she added: “T shall. answer-the advertisement, and say noth- ing to anybody. It may be of no consequence after all. It will be time enough to tell Ward and Mrs. Templeton when I know exactly what to expect.” The young man had gazed sorrowfully after Dru- silla as she passed from his sight. ‘‘ Poor child,” he thought. ‘She is so beautiful—she deserves a het ter lot than has fallen to her portion. She would grace any station in life. No wonder she pines and beats her wings like a caged bird. God knows how tenderly (love her, but I will not selfishly stand in her way.”’ { Entering the parlor a few moments later to sum- mon her son to the simple repast she had Se soho Mrs. Templeton found him seated at the table, wielding his pen more industriously than ever. But some suspicious drops of moisture glistened on the ‘parchment that lay before him. “Drusilla has gone up-stairs, and declines to eat any supper,” she said, giving the young man a searching look, “I hope you have done nothing to offend her, Ward?” He raised his head with a smothered sigh, “This humdrum life is wearing upon her, mother. She must leave the factory, and go away for awhile —have a complete change of scene.” “ But how is it to be managed?” said Mrs. Temple. ton, helplessly. LL —————“———-=-- “Drusilla has laid nothing by oug_
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.MARRIED IN HASTE. a ee of her, own wages, and we are very poor, as you ow. { _ I shall work so much the harder,” was the reply, ven in a more cheerful tone, CHAPTER Ui. ANSWERING THE ADVERTISEMENT. THE next morning, as soon as Ward had departed for his up-town office, Drusilla attired herself in a peat walking suit, and took the train for New ork. She had no difficulty in finding the office of Jones & Brown. Both gentlemen happened to be in. tall, dark, handsome man was just gopertind as she entered. He stood still a moment, and glanced fur- tively at the young girl, as though fascinated by her fair, flower-like face, ere going away. Drusilla blushed and trembled, she knew not why. Gliding up to the nearest member of the firm—Mr. Brown—she laid the advertisement on the desk be- side him, she said briefly. “‘T am here to answer it,”’ The lawyer stared, an expression of amazement on his face, “Bless me! How very singular. The gentleman who has just gone away is interested in the matter, and has requested_us to repeat the notice in all the city papers. And so,” looking at her narrowly, you are Garrison Dreeme’s daughter? That is what you wish me to understand?” “Yes,” Drusilla calmly replied, though her pulses were beating. ‘‘Of course I do not ex ct you to accept my unsupported statement, I bring with me my father’s marriage-certificate—also the record of my own birth. Here they are.” The lawyer studied the papers attentively a mo- ment, then glanced at his colleague. “These are genuine, Mr. Jones,” he said briefly. “Our advertiserhent has been answered sooner than was expected.”’ Then he studied the sweet, blushing face of the Hing 3 girl, his own warming with sincere admira- jon + ‘* Have you brothers or sisters, Miss Dreeme?”’ **No;” an unconscious sadness in her fresh young voice. “fam alone in the world.” fa Do you know who requested us to advertise, and w ” “ ott must have been some one of poor papa’s re- latives?” “Yes, his great-aunt, Mrs, Margaret Severne. She is a lonely old woman, without any children of her own, and resides. for the most part, at her GoUity Ss called Windymere, in northern New ersey, “Thave heard papa speak of her,” her face lighting up with eagerness. rich and very eccentric?” “Yes,” smiled the lawyer, My client is now well advanced in years, and wishes to choose an heir be- fore she dies. Do not build up any hopes that may be disappointed,” he added, hastily. ‘Mrs. Severne 4s very whimsical and tyrannical; it is impossible to tell beforehand what she will decide to do with her money. At the last moment she might con- clude to leave it to strangers, or found a charitable institution.” *““Am I to go to her?” “Within a‘ day or two—after I have had time to communicate with her, But it is at your own risk, please bear in mind. Though,” he added gallantly, ‘I do not see how Mrs. Severne can help being pleas- ed with you.” ; _ Some Seethar conversation ensued, and after leav- ing her address, that the lawyer might. know where to find her, Drusilla departed. As she made her way through the dingy passage into the crowded thoroughfare, she was again con- fronted by the handsome stranger. This time he gazed at fies even more earvestly and admiringly than before, and paused as if to speak; but finally Faised his hat and passed on, said Drusilla, “She is very | 3 Drusilla blushed crimson, and dropped the sweep- ing lashes over her eyes. There had been nothing bold or impudent in the man’s look, but his dark, area seen pe ace and luring eyes haunted her alt-the way home. ‘s. Templeton sat in the little parlor, busily sew- ing, but paused in her work, and looked up question- ingly when the young girl entered. “f “You did not go to the factory to-day, Drusilla? *“No;” with an irrepressible feeling of disgust, Would she ever po there again? “I had business in the city and took a holiday.” “Tam glad of it.” said Mrs. Templeton, heartily. hard work, and so little amusement, is not good for one at your age. I hope you will man- age to enjoy life better in future.” A wistful sigh followed the words. Drusilla did not even hearit. Full of happy thoughts, she stole up-stairs to her chamber, and sat there listening for her lover’s step in the hall below. **T will go to him at once, and tell him of my good fortune,” she said to herself. “ He will rejoice with me. Dear Ward, how I love him! I was almost angry with him last night, but now there is only tenderness in my heart.” j The sun rolled its golden chariot down the western sky, twilight deepened and darkened, and the lamps had been lighted in the rooms below before the slow, weary footstep for which she waited crossed the orch and entered the cottage. Drusilla li bright eyes eosey parlor. Ward Templeton sat at the littered table, writin rapidly. The pile of — to be copied was muc larger than usual, e had brought home extra work to doin the hope of being able to send Dru- recreation. “So mue ancing with joy, stole down to the silla away. for rest an e upon his arm. aside for to-night. hours. Let us have a pleasant, social eve is ly shook his head e gravely shook his head. ‘Do you not see that 1am busier than usual? I have not a moment to waste,” tes : He did not intend to speak unkindly, —¥ would he have given up his distasteful. voted himself to the pretty pleader. B a stern taskmaster; for Drusilla’s own must remain firm, scab ie es A flush rose in the girl's beautiful face Was her hunger for sympathy and love always answer- ed like this?’ It was unendurable, ee See __ So you count the moments wasted that are spent in my society?” she coldly demanded. “You know I do not. But work must be attended to before anything else.” <8 It was hard to answer thus—resisting the impulse to draw her down beside him and kiss her pouting hair—but he did it. { have been waiting for you for ave been ig y i lips and shining able to place in her hand the means necessary for 4 mnaqnth’a soleus at the seaside or among the moun- tains,” he said to himself. + But Drusilla. ignorant of the plans he was forming for her benefit, thought him cold, unsympathetic, even unkind. . See , “Very well,” she said haughtily. ‘Since work is of such paramount importance, and your €.80 valuable, I shall know better than to trespass in future.” - 5 “Drusilla,” he cried, rising hastily, pallid with emotion, ‘do not speak to me like that, Nothing in all the world is of so much consequence as your happiness.” “So I fancied once; but I no longer ‘hold to the eee lain Pech as ; ‘Let me explain, my darling—” . _ : proudly away, refusing to Beer a But she turned word, be) erec a few moments longer, then, ber - Gliding up to him, her hand fell light as a snow- _ ““ Ward,” she said coaxingly, “push those papers — “She will understand and be grateful when I am _ + 7
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* you ma; .. ye the dness for your address. fully _ the hall : ing wholly at ease. terview with the lawyers, and now . visit of this handsome stranger! 4 MARRIED IN HASTE. ‘Tt does not matter in the least,’ she said. “‘Go back to your work. It possesses greater attractions for you than athena else. I can get along quite as well by My deco and I do not wish to hear anything ve to say.” She threw open the long, French window, and stepped out into the moonlit garden. Ward Temple- ton stood gazing after her sorrowfully a moment, then resumed his seat at the table, his fine face dis- torted ite an expression of pain, Drusilla walked on a few steps, her heart beating rebelliously. She had been repulsed, and mentally decided to make no disclosure to Ward that night. **He does not deserve my confidence,” she thought; ‘ perhaps does not even desire it.” At that moment a shadow fell in the moonlight at her feet, and looking up with a start, she beheld the handsome stranger standing close beside her. CHAPTER IIL. IN THE HANDS OF FATE, “Huse!” he said quickly, in a low, musical tone, before she could even ery out. ‘‘ Do not be fright- ened. Iam a friend and mean you no harm.” Drusilla’s lips and cheeks grew white as death. She glanced ne, toward the house. A rose mn trellis interve between her and the open win- dows of the parlor, but a ce on appeal for help would reach Ward’s ears and bring him to her as- sistance, “What do you want?” she demanded, all her com- returning. “‘ Why did you follow me home?” ** Are you Drusilla Dreeme?”’ “That is my name.” y ** And mine is Lester Thornton.”” . He doffed his hat with a courtly bow. As the moonlight fell upon his dark, handsome face, re- vealing its princely Ngee Drusilla felt her heart Se Pa ge a and no longer thought of being afraid. “This is an intrusion,”’ he went on, “but you will not be angry when you know more of me, and what induced me to seek you here. I saw the city law- ‘after you left them to-day, and am indebted to I was struck by the chance glimpse I had of your face, and was thus led to makeinquiries. Miss Dreeme, you are wonder- : os yee that hangs at this moment in ll at Windymere.” Drusilla started. “Have you been to Windymere?” she cried, feel- “Do you know aunt Severne?” r bd ths stranger sy greta ** Mrs. Severne is distantly related tome. I have made her bouse my home for some time,” ‘** Are you my cousin?’ smiling, and displaying his milk-white : Gs) ” teeth. = OMe. Severne, who is dead, was my great- uncle; and Mrs. Severne is er great-aunt. So you perceive we belong to two distinct races.” A brief silence ensued, Drusilla drew a long breath. How strange all the circumstances seeme --the advertisement so Tinie copy found, the in- he unexpected It was like a romance, “Mrs. Severne has been trying to find you for weeks,” Lester Thornton resumed. ‘She had some- how heard that Garrison Dreeme was dead, and had ‘Jeft a daughter. She did not_know whether there were Other children or not. It did not matter to _ starve for all her, she said; it was you she Weetehy ~ “Do you think I shall love my great-aunt?’ Dru- silla asked innocently. He laughed aloud, “Tt will be a miracle if you do. Nobody ever loved her yet. Sheis too hard and tyrannical. to arouse affection. But, then, she is very nich. One can put up with anything for the sake of money. She is sure to scold, browbeat, and abuse you; but then, if you succeed in pleasing her, you will be a great heiress one of these days.’ Drusilla thought of the hot, close factory, with its foul air, perpetual din, and the coarse, vulgar people she was compelled to meet there, and fancied she could endure anything after such an experience. ‘‘Now I come to the real object of this visit,” the man said, with a quick glance toward the house. “At Windymere there must be no will save that of its arrogant mistress. She is not only tyrannical, but full of whims and eaprices. In proof of this I have only to cite the fact that the lawyers had instructions if you were a married woman, to drop the matter entirely, and have ee to do with you,” “What difference coul mured, blushing crimson, ‘* All the difference in the world. Mrs. Severne has no fancy for an heiress whose future she is unable to mold to suit herself. If you are so unfortunate as to possess a sweetheart, even, she will compel you to give him up.” ? The stranger laughed merrily, as though he found the subject vastly amusing. But he saw, all the same, DrusiJla’s sudden start of dismay. ‘“* Now for the word of advice I bet he added, presently, in a more serious tone. ‘“‘I know nothing of the friends you have made-—wish to know noth- ing. But they must be dropped at the threshold of this new life. Drusilla Dreeme’s associates during the dark hours of poverty can not be suitable friends for the rich Mrs. Severne’s heiress.” a “It would be cruel, ungrateful to turn my back upon those who have been so. kind tome,” She ex- claimed. ee “Nonsense, You have your own best interests to consult, Nothing should stand in the way... Thus far you have said nothing to your friends of the ¢hange ie ypur DrORP ete Take my advice, and remainsilent o the end. Vay a! “What do you mean?” she faltered, thrilling with terror in her surprise that he should be acquainted with the fact of her reticence. He drew nearer, whispering the words close to her ear: *T will tell you. Keep your secret, and when the time comes, steal away without saying one word to any ove. It is the easiest way of shaking off those who might otherwise prove a millstone about your neck. The matter is easily accomplished. None of your present acquaintances would ever dream of ooking for you at Windymere, or associating Mrs, Severne’s heiress with plain Drusilla Dreeme.- A word to the wise is sufficient.” He gazed steadily into her blanched face an in- stant, and with a meaning smile parting his full red be abruptly left her. : rusilla lingered some time longer. She wanted time to compose herself after this singular inter- view with the handsome stranger. Ward Templeton was still bending over his copy- ing when Drusilla entered the house. One kind word, even a loving glance, and she would have flown to his side, confessing everything. But he did not speak, or even raise his eyes from his work. ‘He does not care what becomes of me, He is wholly given up to ambitious dreams of thefuture,” Drusilla thought bitterly; and she passed on to her own room, ive Sleep was out of the question, Lester Thornton’s words rung continually in her ears. If she went to Windymere with the expectation of winning her great-aunt’s favor, Ward must be given up forever— a past few years be, as it were, blott from her e . ‘ “Why not?” she said to herself, choking sobs rising in her throat. “Ward prizes a grand career hoe Ae f+" pom it make?’ Drusilla mur-.
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4 MARRIED IN HASTE, § — . Much more than my love. I should only be a clog and a hindrance. He would forget me in a few week: and accomplish as much again without e,” Poor thing; she buried her face in her trembling hands, her slender frame quivering with the vio- lence of her emotion, The despair of that passion- ate, undisciplined heart was pitiful to see. One ten- der, loving word would have wrought an entire re- ' Vulsion in her feelings, but Ward was not there to speak it. “Mr, Thornton is right,” she thought. “I had better keep my secret, and steal away like a thief. Ward need not know what has become of me, He would never take the trouble to institute a search. Since he has so little love to give, he shall mot stand between me and the splendid fortune I covet.’ _A sort of frenzy was upon her. Since she had de- cided to go, why should not the momentous step be taken immediately? It would be easier now, she fancied, than by and by. With trembling, passionate hands she dressed her- self and gathe together her few trinkets and keepsakes. pnowe Ene rest. were a gold brooch and 2 pretty pearl ring Ward had given ier, A few hot tears fell upon them as she hid them. with a few valuable papers, in the bosom of her dress. At last she was ready to set out. A distant clock struck the hour of midnight. Drusilla turned to- ward the door, At that instant she beard her lover’s slow, weary footsteps cross and recross the apartment below, He was still up, and at work. Drusilla’s heart smote her at the sound. With a pitiful sob she sunk on her knees beside the couch, and hid her face in the counterpane, “How can I leave him?” she moaned. all, it may be for my sake he is so ambitious, Love is better than riches, I will not give him up!” _ The night waned, and she still knelt there without sign, and motionless. Poor, undisciplined child! she had sobbed herself to sleep. A roaring, crackling sound, and a suffocating smell awakened her. She started up, rubbing her sleep-laden eyes. Allwas bewilderment for ‘a mo- ment. Gasping for breath, she tottered into the middle of the room. At the same instant a sheet of pit ae shot across the window. The house was on fire ' For one moment Drusilla stood motionless, as if petrified with horror, then she rushed to the door and flung it wide. 7 Volumes of thick, stifling smoke rolled up the _ Stairway, instantly filling the apartment. -It was like looking down into the yawning pit of hell. But ot one last hope of life and safety lay in that direc- “Ward! Ward!’* she shrieked involuntarily. Then she darted down the stairway. The air grew thicker and hotter as she advanced; it scorched her delicate flesh. The dense smoke rolled and circled about her, All was horror and confusion. She wildly stretched out her trembling hands. ra ad, Save me |”? Then she stood in the little parlor; it was empty now, but the flames were nearer—she could. see the red tongues leap hissingly along the wall and lick greedily at her garments, and sparks were falling all epee sen ; Suddenly her lover’s voice, harsh and shrill with anguish, sounded in her ears, “Drusy, where are you?” *‘ Here—here!’ : She turned with a thrill of hope and rapture. Pride, anger, alienation, were all forgotten. For one instant she saw his face—the nob e, handsome face she loved so well—turned toward her with an expression of horror aud despair, “Save me, Ward!” Then a solid wall of flame shot up suddenly be- tween them. The crashing of timbers and shiver- g of glass could be heard, and a groan of despair rose to Heaven from scores of human throats. en ee ed “* After. “ CHAPTER IV. TEMPTATION. BLINDED, bewildered, almost fainting with terror, . - Drusilla felt herself suddenly seized by a powerful arm and drawn backward from the horrible death so imminent a moment before. She was dimly conscious of the ruddy glare of the burning building, the crackling of the flames, the hoarse. murmur of excited voices—then a dark, handsome face was pressed close to her own & moment, and, with a long, shuddering sigh, she fainted outright. + When Drusilla’s wandering senses struggled fee- bly back again she found herself in a close car- riage, half-supported by Lester Thornton, who was eagerly chafing her temples and eold, white hands. “You are better,’ he uttered, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God!’ Drusilla started up, quivering with anguish and horror. “Tremember,” she cried. ‘* The burning cottage, the suffocating atmosphere, the flickering tongues of flame, and Ward’s white face gazing at me over that gulf of fire!” ; is A moan of despair drifted over the lovely, parted ips. “Let me-out,” she implored. ‘Where are you taking me? He—Ward—will perish in the flames, It may be too late already. Let me fly to his rescue.” But the young man drew her down beside him. “ Reassure L Persarg my friend,” he said oS. “Ward Templeton is in no danger—I lingered lon enough to learn that much. He and his mother have fcund shelter ere this.” “But they need me. I must go to them in- stantly.”’ ‘he -- A half-amused gleam shone in the man’s hand- some eyes. “You can be of no use. They will find plenty of friends in such an emergency. Do not waste an anxious thought upon those you have left behind. Leaning over her quite tenderly he added: “Listen to me, Drusilla. ) such I know him to have been—believes you are dead, that you perished in the flames. Others share the conviction. In the excitement that prevailed no . one saw me rescue you and bear you away.” c He paused, looking down at the blanched, beauti- ful face upon which the moonlight, streaming in at the carriage window, fell with a ly glow.” ‘Fate has been singularly kind, Every link in the chain binding you to the past has been broken, and without conscious effort on your part. Do you realize the situation? You ean enter the portals of the glorious life that awaits you without the least fear of annoyance from those who might, under other ; circumstances, have proven very_ trouble- som & Drusiila felt her pulses start under the steady gaze of those dark, mesmeric eyes. r “It is well to know how to take advantage of cir- cumstances,” he went on, smilingly. ‘tI have shown myself your best friend. You were incapable. of doing anything for yourself, and I acted for you. I hope you feel duly grateful. A splendid career awaits you. All the blessings and luxuries of life will be showered lavishly upon you. ¥ to yield submissively to my guidance. rusilla was d the hard, plodding life she had led. ny The nex eae a feeling of vague terror awak- ened in her heart. She knew so very little of the handsome stranger who had constituted himself her protector. Was it safe to trust him? Drawing as far away as possible, she repeated # former guestion. ‘‘ Where are you taking me?’ a‘ To swered readily. ‘She warne h to come back without you. However, be Your humble lover—for You have only — ed by the picture his words sug- gested. Wealth and ease looked very enticing PS indymere, to your great-aunt,” he an-— 4 me when I left aes
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— . ares se 6.7 MARRIED IN HASTE, for a cold welcome; Mrs. Severne will be secretly glad to see you all the same.” Drusilla made no reply. Leaning her head upon her hand, she sat thinking seriously and deeply. Should she leave those who loved her, who had ever been so true and devoted, in this strange, secret fashion, severing her life suddenly and forever from theirs? Should she suffer this acquaintance of an hour to map out the uncertain future? Should ride, ambition and avarice gain the day—love, ruth and rectitude be forgotten? Then came the thought of Ward’s coldness and in- difference. ‘‘ His grief would soon wear itself out,” she said to herself bitterly. ‘* I could never go back and humble myself to him again.” In the event that she should return, what explana- tion of her absence could be given? The simple truth would hardly be believed. She must relin- qnish all thought of inheriting Mrs. Severne’s mil- lion—content herself with settling down to the old barren, humdrum life, more intolerable than ever now that this alienation had sprung up bétween her and Ward Templeton. “‘Never,”’ she cried aloud. Lester Thornton heard, and looked at her with an approving smile, as though he divined all that had been passing in her thoughts. “You have decided wisely,” he said. Stopping the carriage in one of the quiet streets where a light burned in a shop window—it was now almost daybreak—he entered, and purchased a shawl, hat, gloves and vail for Drusilla. Afterward he drove to the railway station. The sun was shining brilliantly, shedding its golden glow upon the long, high blocks of brick and marble and brown-stone palaces, when they finally reached the great metropolis. They went first to an =. town hotel, where a dainty breakfast was served; afterward the young man took his now silent com- panion to the office of the lawyers Drusilla had visited once already. ‘“We have received no word from Mrs. Severne,”’ they said, glancing dubiously from the timid young virlto her handsome escort. “ But we think you may safely venture to go to Windymere without.” Jt was not along journey. The railway train was abandoned at a quiet country station, and Lester Thornton, smiling reassuringly, drew Drusilla’s slender little hand under his arm. ; “Win pe is half : mile ees, a carriage = been sent as we are not expected. But we can easily walk the distance.” ae girl’s heart had been sinking for some_time. Never in all her life had she felt so lonely and deso- late. A ful flush suffused her cheeks as they stepped into the fragrant high-road, and she sae . denly burst into tears. / Her companion gave her a perplexed look, not un- mixed with annoyance, “What is the matter, Drusilla? Are you dreading - the encounter with Mrs. Severne? You need not. Her bark is much worse than her bite. She cannot Bele being pleased with one so innocent and beauti- “ Oh, why did I come?” sobbed the homesick girl. ““Why did I not remain with those who loved me?’ - a give up the splendid fortune that awaits you?” A sudden sparkle came into the velvety eyes. He had touthed the right chord. No, she could not re- linquish the bright hope that promised to make her future so delightful. CHAPTER V. e MRS. SEVERNE. Drvsitxa cid not givea thought to the beautiful landscape upon which the sun, just past the zenith, we pouring its radiant, yellow flood. he was vaguely conscious of swelling hills, clothed in verdure, green waving woodlands, flower-gemmed meadows, meandering streams, and a hazy distance — eee where the blue of the sky and the misty purple of the hills seemed to meet and kiss each other. The dark, gray walls of a fine old mansion loomed upsuddenly before her. Drusilla had never beheld anything so picturesque or half so imposing. Her thoughts were instantly carried back to descriptions of English baronial homes she had read. “How grand!” she exclaimed, involuntarily. The young man’s eyes danced as they rested on her fresh, sweet face, “Your future home,’’ he whispered. ‘Is it not worth the sacrifice you have made? You need never leave it again.”’ A moment later Drusilla was ushered into the wide, marble-paved hall. She had only time to ob- serve how lofty and spacious it was, with rows of family portraits hanging on either side, when a door Sop wt and a middle-aged woman, dressed in plain 0 black silk, appeared. She gave a visible start, and was gazing bewil- deredly from one to the other, when Lester Thorn- ton spoke: ‘* This girl is the lost heiress for whom your mis- tress has been searching, Mrs. Merle. Show her to the guest-chamber, and I will inform Mrs. Severne that our quest has been successful.”’ The housekeeper—for such was Mrs. Merle’s posi- tion at Windymere—bowed silently, and after one ae searching look, bade the young girl follow er. The chamber into which Drusilla was ushered, was a miracle of luxury and beauty. She felt her cheeks flush, and her heart beat as she looked around. Before she was half-done admiring its luxurious appointments—the soft velvet carpet that smothered the heaviest tread, the costly mahogany furniture, the rich drapings of satin and billowy lace—Mrs. Merle reappeared to take her to the drawing-room, Drusilla did not even notice the splendors of this lower apartment. From the instant of crossing the threshold her whole attention was centered upon the woman who sat at the upper end, upon a raised seat of black velvet that had somehow the air of a throne, A gray, wrinkled old woman of perhaps seventy, elad in a richly-embroidered, steel-colored brocade, a point-lace ruffle fastened about her neck with a diamond pin, and several costly rings upon her thin, yellow hands. She lifted a gold-rimmed eye-glass as Drusilla en- tered; and through this medium the bright black eyes looked cold, cruel and crafty, as she coolly in- spected her new-found relative. “ Humph!” she said, no feature of her harsh face * relaxing in the least. ‘And so you are Garrison Dreeme’s daughter?” ; ‘* Yes, aunt,” Drusilla answered, in a trembling voice. ‘‘Humph! I should never have thought it. I knew your father years ago, before he married. ae a man of the world, polished and agreeable, ut you—you look more like a bar-maid, or a farmer’s daughter. All the fault of your bringing up, of course.” Stretching out one of her jeweled hands, she gave the skirt of Drusilla’s plain, neat traveling-dress a vicious twitch. “What's this? The sort of stuff you are-accus- tomed to wear? It reminds one of sack-cloth.” ‘It is the best I could afford,’ Drusilla answered, sweetly, though her eyes filled. “Humph. I would not allow even my maid to wear such an outlandish costume.” - ~ , Turning toward Lester Thornton, who stood slight- ly apart, an expression of quiet amusement in his handsome eyes, she added with a groan: “Tt is not of the least use, Lester. Why did you © 5 bring this young barbarian here? Nothing can ever be done with her. —— introducing such a erea- ture to my friends as the prospective heiress of Windymere! Bah!”
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roy aes ae oe ee Oe? Se ve. Oe MARRIED IN HASTE, ¢ \ rrr ne .. She may improve upon acquaintance.” “There’s plenty of room for improvement, good- ness knows.” ‘Then her sharp eyes seemed to plerce the blushing Drusilla like lances, ‘How old are you?” she abruptly demanded, ‘ Kichteen.” , “You look like a child. Ihave seldom seen a girl at your age so unformed. Lester tells me you have thew some years working in a dirty factory?” and the woman’s very chin quivcred with disgust. The homesick girl bowed, not trusting herself to make audible response, “Worse and worse. I can smell the horrid place on your garments. I might as well have gone into the gutter for an heiress. It is fortunate you have neither brothers nor sisters, I should wash my hands of them if you had. One of your kind is all [ ‘could attempt to civilize.” Rising abruptly, she seized Drusilla’s hand, and drew her into the spacious hall, pausing under the portrait of a beautiful young girl dressed in white, with strings of pearl encircling the firm, white throat, “Lester is right,’ she muttered gazing critically from the pictured face to the glowing, living one pay below it. ‘“Youare marvelously like this pic- ure,” : . “Ts it the portrait of my mother?” Drusilla asked, eagerly. * ‘ “No,” harshly. ‘Your mother was an alien— her portrait will never hang among the Severnes. This lady was your great grandmother.” Drusilla turned. Her attention had been caught and riveted by a brilliant, beautiful face that hung close beside the other. It was that of a young woman dressed in a rich trailing robe. of maize- colored brocade, with falling, purple-black hair, and diamonds shining in its dusky splendor, and against the dazzling fairness of the alabaster neck, “Who is it?” Drusilla asked breathless} y, strange- ly thrilled and fascinated, ; An expression of disgust flitted over Mrs. Severne’s yellow face, “Ugh! Come away. I have threatened to take the portrait down. It has no right to be there with the rest. Judith was a Severne, but she disgraced herself; ran away with a common music-teacher and has never been heard from since. Her name is never mentioned in the house, so take warn- ing, Mrs. Severne returned to her vy her eyes a moment as she sunk into its luxurious depths, Lester Thornton had not stirred, apparent- ly, from his position near by. After an interval the -old woman spoke: “Tam greatly disappointed in you, Drusilla. Of course you have grown up ignorant and vulgar. It could not be otherwise with such surroundings. Do you speak French or Italian?” Annoyed by the supercilioug tone, Drusilla flushed as she replied: ‘1 spoke both fluently while my father was alive. He, me & good linguist, and taught me what he could, _ “Humph. Did he teach you to play?” ued you to play? elvet chair, closing Mrs. Severne turned with a quick little nod. “Open the piano, Lester, We will soon discover what this young te has learned.” The cottage parlor had contained no musical in- strument of any description. Poor Drusilla was badly out of practice; but she felt a thrill of pleas- ure as her fingers touched the firm, ivory keys, and played very creditably the very difficult ‘music Mrs, verne placed before her, Still no word of encouragement or praise, The old woman only frowned and shook her head, “Do you sing?” a Drusilla selected a pretty, English ballad. Her voice was full, rich and sweet, and filled the lofty room with such a flood of moore as had not been heard there for many a day. But Mrs. Severne, being “ steps Pe her crossest moods, remained ,volun- tarily blinded to its power. : “Stop!” she cried, in the middle of the refrain. such screeching is enough to startle the dead. Your voice must be trained and cultivated if you re* main at Windymere. If pas remain, I say—you need cherish no delusive hopes. My money is my own, to do with as I choose, At present I feel quite discouraged. It is like picking upa vagabond out of the street. Ido not see how it is possible ever to polish or even civilize you.” She took: up a French novel that lay upon the table, opening it at random. ‘‘Read-a few sentences aloud.” Drusilla did so. : set “Bah! your pronunciation is execrable,” was the comment. “‘ Now you may translate what you have read,” The rendering given was so delicate and so ex- act that even Mrs. Severne, who prided herself upon her versatility in that foreign tongue, could find no fault. “That will do for the present,’ she said. ‘I am tired; youcan gonow. But don’t expect too much. It_is probable I shall leave my money to found a school. If I do, you shall be entered as its first pupil, and receive your tuition free.” : ‘ ot a kind word—not one tender, sympathizing glance. Once in the seclusion of her own room, Drusilla threw herself upon the couch, sobbing as though her heart would break. r The magnificence she had coveted was beginning to pall already, In her grief and homesickness, how ey. would she have exchanged it for the humble ittle cottage where love dwelt, and only kind and pleasant words were ever heard! “Ward, why did I ever leave you?” she cried, calling frantically upon her lost lover, “ Why listen to the siren voice of avarice and ambition? And _ now it istoo late to turn back—you would never for- give me, CHAPTER VI. A STARTLING CONFESSION. One dark and stormy night, a week later, Ward Templeton was restlessly pacing the floor of .a room in a humble tenement: house not far from the black- ened site of the burned cottage. Mrs, Templeton lay on a cot-bed in one corner. She had received serious injuries the night of the fire, and now her days were numbered. Ward himself looked a dozen years older, He carried one arm in a sling, his dark hair had been singed by the flames, his cheeks blistered, and an expression of utter despair brooded in his earnest eyes. All hope and joy had been stricken from his ns hg face. boy,” called a facbl mate “Come here, my boy,” ea a feeble voice from the bed, and as the young man fey beside her, Mrs. Templeton placed one hand lovingly upon his ~ shoulder. : “It is a terrible trouble, Ward,” she whispered. “Tloved Drusilla too, and share your sorrow. But you must try to bear it unmurmuringly.” , “How can 1?” groaned the unbappy man. ‘She perished before my very eyes. Her cry for help is: still ringing in my ears. I am unable to forget it foramoment. I would willingly have given my Jife for her sweet sake, and yet I could not save her. “You did what you could, my boy. Here is the evidence,” touching his injured arm and blistered cheek, ‘You rushed into the flames, and would have perished in a mad attempt to rescue poor Drusilla had not strong, friendly hands drawn you back.” y iv A convulsive shudder ran through Ward’s frame. Never, while he lived, could he forget the horror and agony of that moment. Drusilla was perishing in the eruel flames, he fully believed, and he ha struggled frantically with those who held him back .
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8 MARRIED IN HASTR. from rushing to his own destruction until finally he had fallen down exhausted. “God knows I loved her truly,”’ cried the wretched man, hot tears rising to blind his eyes. ‘I shall Hine 3 know a happy moment now that she is 2 bbs t Mrs. Templeton looked at him pityingly, great falling down her own pale cheeks. “Ward,” she said, after a pause, “do you know that you will soon be alone the world? I must follow the game shining road Drusilla has traversed before me.” “ Do not speak of it,” he answered, with a stifled sry of pain, ‘T was not sure eon realized the danger, my boy. You have so much to bear—I could not let the end tind you pppespered to meet it.” ; He buried his face in the bedclothes; and the sick woman, sighing faintly, suffered her hand to rest jovingly upon his bowed head. “You have been very good to me, Ward,” she breathed. ‘‘No mother ever hada more loyal or devoted son. In all these years you have never wrung my heart with an unnecessary pang. Let that t ouene comfort you when I am gone.” A brief silence ensued. At last, sighing again, Mrs. Templeton turned painfully upon the pillow. ‘“Ward, I have something to say to you before I die,” she faintly whispered. ‘‘ But not to-night. I dread the effect of the disclosure I shall make. Let me retain your love and respect as long as possible.” “ Mother, what do you mean?” he cried, starting up in unbounded surprise. _ “T will tell you to-morrow,” she answered, closing her eyes with such a weary expression he could not persist in questioning her. ; Later, he was again pacing the floor, his arms olded across his breast and his head bent, when a ‘aint, low sound like a smothered soh. echoed ~ through the room. It thrilled him strangely. He glanced toward the bed, but it did not come from thence. Trembling, he scarcely knew why, he held his breath to listen. Again that faint, moaning sound quivered through the silence. He turned his eyes toward the window. Glued against the window-pane, he beheld a pale, beauti- ful face with clustering curls of golden-brown hair falling about it. “Drusilla!” he cried, springing forward, and throwing up the sash. But the lovely, bewildering vision had vanished before he reached the window. He stepped out Into the wild, wet night. There was only the im- penetrable darkness, the falling rain, and the mournful sobbing of the wind. “Drusilla?” he called once more. A dash of rain struck against his face. Then, all at once, he realized the folly of what he was doing. ““T must be half crazed with sorrow to fancy suc things,”’ he said hoarsely, as he re-entered the com- fortless apartment. Mrs. Templeton had half raised herself from the pillow, and was gazing at him eagerly. “T know what it means,”’ she whispered nervously “Tt was Drusilla’s spirit come to warn me that my time is near at hand.” “Did You see it, too, mother?” “ Yes,”’ she replied. Ward dropped into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. He was not naturally superstitious, but ir heart beat heavy and thick with a nameless sen- sation. Mrs. Templeton was worse the next day. Ward rae the a Fearing oe Fenian ge Bee ee ee inking ra: 3 the day was wan e e dm to the beaside, 4 ‘ic “Tt is not safe to put off any longer what I have to say. My dear geht you do not realize how well I gt as you. ill you give me a promise before les’ : is Yes—yes!”’ “Tt is a verysimple one—that you will always think kindly and tenderly of me!” et I could not think of you in any other way, mo- er.” The dying woman looked up with a start, and a flash of excitement in her ahs 2 eyes. “*Mother!” she repented: “T have no claim to that holy title, Ward; you are not my son!” i He grew white—white as ashes, and stared at her silently with incredulous eyes. ‘*Youare amazed,’’ she went on, speaking rapidly. “T have ps my secret well, Not even our most | intimate friends suspected it. I love you as well as though you were my own son, and yet not one drop of kindred blood flows in our veins.”’ Rallying herself with an effort, she continued: “ My story is sosimpleI ean tell it briefly, God never granted me the holy joy of motherhood. The disappointment was.greater than I can express. { never became fully reconciled to it. My husband loved me truly: but he, too, felt a jonging desire for the touch of dimpled baby fingers, the music of childish voices in our home. “The time came when circumstances induced us to break up oJd associations and seek new ones in a strange place. Our route lay through New York, and we tarried a few days. **One a we were walking in one of the smaller parks. l remember what a lovely morning it was—how the sun shone upon the smooth grass and the waving green of the trees. The breath of roses and lilies floated toward us, but in all the mimie Eden, with its blossoms and beauty, there was nothing half so lovely as a group o happy children playing among the flowers. “* Oh, John!’ I said to my husband, ‘how fair and sweet they are! I would give anything in the world for a child of my own!’ “T felt some one pull suddenly at my sleeve. A woman, Closely vailed, was standing ‘beside me, holding a sleeping infant in her arms. : “*Are you in earnest?’ she whispered rapidly. Do ou really mean what you say?’ ; epee TA sane though a good deal startled; ‘ it is a blessing Heaven has denied me.’ ‘The woman gave me a long, searching look, then hastily threw back the coverings from the child's face. Rosy, dimpled, innocent, the picture of sweet, confiding helplessness, I felt my heart warm — toward it at once. ‘““* Will you take the little one and bring it up as your own?’ she asked. Sg “Surprise held me mutea moment. The burning eyes pionces furtively from me to my husband, “*You need not hesitate,” the woman said. ‘The child was born of respectable parents, in honorable wedlock, but circumstances compel them to part with it. 1t will never be claimed or inquired after. I shall take it to a foundling hospital if you dectine to receive it.’ | “The child’s innocence and beauty appealed to my heart, It seemed cruel to abandon the little dar- ling to the fate that menaced. I looked up wistfully into my husband’s face. ‘***Do as you wish, Martha.’ he said. ‘I feel that I could love the child very dearly.’ “That settled the matter. When we went to our new home the child was with us, and no one eyer suspected he was not our own. Now you have the whole story, Ward; but no mother ever loved an own” son more tenderly than I loved you from the very first. You believe me, Ward?” “Yes, mother.” Mrs. Templeton smiled, and happy tears filled her eyes as the old endearing nameé fell from his ips. “Thanks, my boy," she said, gratefully. ‘It Js j like you to remain unchanged, It has cost me 4 bitter struggle to disclose the truth. I could not i a he to read distrust or aversion in your } face,” ‘He pressed his lips to her forehead. j a ¥ ae sey Be
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I eS eo as eee MARRIED ' “There is nothing to fear. You are the only inother I have ever known. I shall ever hold you in deepest esteem and reverence.” .The young man brooded thoughtfully over the disclosure to which he had just listened, a moment, then said: “The strange woman—haye you seen or heard from her since?” “Never,” Mrs. Templeton replied. ‘She told me -truly—no one has ever come to inquire after you in pac pedal ns : “Do you think she could have been my mother?” "g No,”-—decidedl 3, ‘it is not hossible.. No mother could have parted from her offspring so coldly. I did not see her face distinctly, but she had the ap- pearance of being an upper servant in some gentle- aS ae: d “Was there nothing by whi i > reCog- nized ageint- g by which she might be recog “Tnoticed a ring she wore on the third finger of her left hand. It struck me as being incon gibus with her plain attire. It was a ruby cross, tipped with diamonds, in a setting of Etruscan gold.” After a moment’s silence, Mrs. Templeton pro- duced a small silken bag that she wore suspended about her neck, From it she took a chain of fine gold, to which was attached a small medallion. “T have Bent this for you as a sacred trust, Ward. It is the only link connecting you with the unknown Fest. I found this chain clasped about your neck. ake it, my boy, and guard it carefully. It may some day prove of untold value to you.” hortly afterward a strange hush, a holy silence, fell inthe room. Not even a pulsation seemed to break it. Ward Templeton, leaned over the couch with a quick-drawn breath. That still, gt face, the lips frozen in a smile of peace, told its own story. Theangel of death had come and gone again, bearing another trophy. The days that followed were very lonely and sad for the solitary mourner. Hope, courage, ambition were gone, It became impossible to apply himself to his usual duties. He felt that he had nothing for which to live. At every turn he was reminded of rusilla, and the patient, loving woman who had en as a mother to him, “T cannot remain here and keep my reason,”’ he Said in his despair. ae One day when the burden of sorrow was clinging most heavily about his heart, his attention was accidentally directed to an advertisement that ap- peared in one of the daily papers. ““ Wanted.—An elderly gentleman, in poor health, wishes to secure the services of an intelligent, capable young man who will act at once as private secretary and companion. Address ‘** Morris HASTINGS, “ Hillside, New Jersey.” Weary, dishearténed, desirous above all things of a change, Ward applied for the situation and secured it. What puppets we are in the hands of fate! Hill- side was in the near neighborhood of Windymere, Mrs. Severne’s country seat. The unsuspecting young man was going straight to the lost love ‘whom he mourned as dead! ., CHAPTER VII. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. “We go to the city this afternoon. At three o'clock, sharp. Remember the time. I won’t be kept waiting by anybody.” rusilla glanced up hastily from the pages of the k she was perusing. “Am I to accompany you, aunt Severne?” “Of course. Haven't I just intimated as much? Ihave purchases to make on/your account. You are not likely to remain long at Windymere, but you shall not disgrace me while here, I am tired of seeing you in those wretched garments that smell of IN HASTE. 9 the factory. Faugh! Where is my vinaigrette? What a disagreeable odor.” ‘ : Nearly a week had elapsed since Drusilla’s mid- night flitting. She was growing accustomed to the new, strange life that had opened “p to her so sud- denly. The luxurious surroundings, the lordly man- sion, the trained domestics, the atmosphere of re- finement were all very agreeable to the dazzled young girl. It seemed like going back to her own after a long absence. And yet there were moments when all these things palled upon her senses, when her heart sickened with homesick longing for those she had left behind, and but for the restraining influence of pride and ambition she would have given up everything and flown back to the dear, faithful friends of the past. Promptly at the hour specified, accompanied by her maid and Drusilla, Mrs, Severne set out upon her varie & Brief as it was, the old woman com- plained of being tired, and upon reaching the city drove at once to one of the best hotels, where, after partaking of a luxurious supper, she ordered Peters to put her to bed. S be next morning was spent in making the rounds of the fashionable shops, until poor Drusilla’s head. was completely turned by the rie’ness and variety of the silks, velvets, laces and ribbons displayed to her dazzled vision. ; Behold her, late in the afternoon, in Mrs, Severne’s rivate parlor at the hotel, pve in sheeny_bil- ows of satin, silk, and creamy lace that covered the floor with ar soft richness and rainbow splendor. A glitter of excitement was in the velvety softness of her eyes, and a pearly drop o# two trembled upon the drooping lashes. ‘* Are all these beautiful things for me, aunt Sev- eye? How good and kind you are!” 3 - “There, there! No nonsense,” testily ejaculated the old woman, “It is to my own credit to dress you well. I find it intensely mortifying to have you pointed out as the grand-niece of the rich Mrs. .Sev- ern d hear people say in the same breath, she is dre like a milk-maid. I would rather palter to ns iad vanity than have my.own pride so hum- led,”’ Drusilla trembled. Was the woman’s heart ada- mant, a frozen fountain from which sympathy and tenderness had been banished forever? } The longing for affection and appreciation could not be restrained. Braving Mrs. erne’s frown and angry looks the lonely girl fell upon her knees beside the easy-chair. - ye “T have no one, now, in all the wide world save ou,”’ she cried, her tears falling fast. ‘‘Take all hese costly trappings away, aunt Severne, and give me your love. It would be a thousand times more precious than anything else you could be- stow.” The old woman gazed at hera moment with cold scrutiny, then pushed her violently away. “T know what this means,” she said. ‘‘ Love, in the present case, is ges oe! word for mince - ; Oo) cool million or more. ou can’t make a foo. me, Drusilla, with your soft nonsense. Don’t try.” Turning away, she spoke abruptly to her maid, and for the next half-hour refu even to look at Drusilla. ° But this mood passed. With a grim oes on her face, she finally recalled the wretched young etl Child,” she said abruptly, ‘“‘do you know what decided me to dress you up so fine and gay?” “Because you were ashamed of the simple gar- ments that smelled of the factory when I was com- elled to earn my own support,” Drusilla answered innocently. es Don't repeat my own words. How dare seo The reason you mention had its influence, but there was still another. Lester Thornton took me to task, the other day. He said it wasa shame to hide such beauty as yours—for you are pink and white like a wax doll—in coarse, ill-made garments.” %
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Lee 10 ' MARRIED IN HASTE. A flush suffused the girl’s delicate cheeks. * What can it matterto Mr. Thornton how I dress?”’ “Tt does matter,” gazing at her steadily while speaking. ‘Lester admires you very much, though he is too modest to tell you so upon so short an ac- quaintance. But there is no necessity for delay or hesitation, between you and me—Lester is handsome and cultivated; he will make a good husband, as men 80} I thoroughly approve of the match, and—”’ _* Don’t!” cried Drusilla, springing up, and speak- ing ina tone of pain. “ Never even mention such a thing to me again,” “Why not? It is quite time we came to an under- standing. My plans were all arranged long ago, and Lester has understood them from the first, You be- long to one branch of the family, Lester tothe other. Before seeing you I had made up my mind you two should marry if you proved at all suitable for Les- ter. No better arrangement could be made. Justice could be done you both, and my princely fortune need not be divided.” There was a pause. Drusilla could not speak at first for the choking sensation in her throat. And this was why the young man had been at such pains to seek her? This was why he often looked at her sO srrangely and spoke with such an air of proprie- torship? Even the lawyers, perhaps, had been in the secret. She, alone, had been kept in the dark, “You are a sensible girl, with all your faults, and must see the matter in the same light that Ido,” Mrs. Severne resumed. ‘‘Only be submissive, and you shall want for nothing. I will give you jewels and fine dresses, and raise you at once to the posi- tion Lester Thornton's prospective wife should oe- cupy.” ont!” cried Drusilla aga’n, finding voice at last. “It is quite impossible for me to do as you “Impossible? What do you mean?” “T can never marry Mr. Thornton.” Mrs. Severne blazed up like a voleano. ‘‘ You can not marry him?” she echoed, glaring at the girl with an angry light in her as “Why?” * Because—I do not love him!” “Love? Fiddlesticks! You are a chlid, and don’t know your own mind. You will like him well enough when you are once his wife. Nobody marries for love nowadays. We will consider the matter set- . You are to remain, have your fine dresses made, make your debut in society, and by-and-by take Lester for your husband.” “ But, aunt Severne—”’ “Not another word,” cried the old woman, throw- ing up her jeweled hand impatiently. ‘I am tired; and [hate long discussions. They always annoyed me. We understand each other now—what more is wanted?” The glow was fast fading from Drusilla’s cheeks, an pi ode pallor taking its place. But she answered steadily: “T fear you do not understand me, aunt Severne. I could not think of receiving benefits under false pretenses. It would not be possible for me to cee in this one respect. and—”’ ' “Will you stop talking?” sharply interrupted Mrs, Severne. ‘‘Am I the one to be pleased, or are you? Not another word. You will dd asI wish. Peters,” she added, turning to her maid, ‘‘ take this disagree- able girl away. Then you may bring me my tea, and -put me to bed. She has tired me out.” In the solitude of her own room poor Drusilla stood a moment later, bitter tears falling down her face. She felt an impulse to run away—to leave her harsh, cruel relative forever. “Marry Lester Thornton?’’ she cried indignantly. “Give to that man the place Ward Templeton held in my heart? Never!" Approaching the window, she looked out into the buys bustling street. How dreary it was despite its ac £ ty, The sky was overcast, a fine, pometeating rain had begun to fall, and the purplo dusk of twi- light was fast closing in, : ; Drusilla’s thoughts wandered back to the humble home she had abandoned. How she longed to throw herself upon Mrs. Templeton’s friendly bosom and weep out all her sorrow there—to look once more upon Ward’s noble face! It would give her new strength and endurance. Suddenly she started. She had heard nothing from them save Lester’s assurance that they were safe. Why should she not go back, look in upon them a moment, herself unseen, then come away - again? “T will go,”’ she said aloud. Peters met her in the passage, as she was going down-stairs in her street wraps. The woman stared. “T am going out for a few moments,” said Drusilla eonfusedly. ‘*Should aunt Severne ask for me, please think of some excuse.” “T will, miss,’ was the kind response. Peters waggfond of the girl, and willing to do her a good turn. “Poor thing,” she thought, looking after her. ‘She is poing to the hoe or some place of amusement, of course. Let her go. My mistress will lead her a dog’s life. Let her take what pleasure she can.” . Drusilla was just in time to catch an outward- bound train, and two hours later reached the small inland town that had once been her home. Her heart beat painfully as she traversed the familiar streets, a thick vail drawn over her face. She reached the site of the cottage, and found only a heap of blackened ruins. Tears fell from her eyes like rain as she leaned wearily upon the garden palings and looked around, * cate changed everything is,’’she moaned. “Tt almost breaks my heart.” The faint, sweet odor of roses floated to her nos- trils. The rain was now ae heavily, but she groped about in the wet and darkness until she ound a few frail blossoms that had been crushed to earth by the ppterae ait of many feet. Placing them in her bosom, she hurried onward. A light hey like a beacon from the uncur- tained windows of a cottage near by. Drusilla ap- segaig ee and looked within. An involuntary cry roke from her lips, She saw Mrs, Templeton lying upon the low bed, and Ward standing near, ooking pallid and careworn. “My dear, kind friend is ill,” she thought, ‘* Lester did not tell me that. I wish I could goto her. She thinks I am dead.” , At that moment Ward raised his eyes and saw her. He rushed eagerly to the window, as has been de- scribed in another chapter. But Drusilla, yielding to the sudden impulse of terror that came upon her, had turned and fled. . Ere midnight struck, she was back in her solitary room at the hotel; and another crisis in her life had been passed. : The following morning she returned with Mrs, Severne to Windymere, CHAPTER VIII. JUDITH SEVERNE’S DAUGHTER. ‘*Somn one is asking to see you, madam.” The announcement came from Mrs. Merle, the new housekeeper. She stood at the door of the drawing-room where Mrs. Severne, Drusilla and Les- ter Thornton sat, a strange expression that seemed a blending of dread and exultation upon her pale, thin face. Drus‘lla had been reading aloud. Mrs. Severne felt interested for once, and did not like to be inter- rupted. She turned with a frown. “Visitors! Ican see no one to-day. People never Ean a time when they will be weleome. Who is i q “A strange lady, madam. She gave no name. Rut she seemed very anxious to see you. A matter of importance, I should judge from her manner. ' Shall I show her up?” Mrs. Severne may have been influenced by curi-'
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MARRIED IN HASTE. il os'ty alone, or possibly the repressed excitement of the housekeeper’s manner had its effect. She set- tled_ back in her chair with a sigh of resignation. “Yes, I will see her. Some beggar, of course.” The next instant a figure glided into the apart- ment, at sight of which even unimpressible Mrs. Severne was startled—a tall, commanding figure, shrouded from head to foot ina loose cloak, the face effectually concealed by a thick, muffling vail. “Bless me!"’ cried the old woman scornfully, after avery brief interval of silence. “What ghost of our dead and gone ancestors have we here?” “You shall see, and judge for yourself,” was the reply given in a singularly rich and musical voice. Cloak and vail were tossed quickly aside. Mrs. Severne beheld the tall, beautifully-rounded figure of a young woman with a face that was fairly dazzling in its dark, rich loveliness and vivid coloring. Diamonds were braided in the purple-black masses of falling hair, and the new-comer wore a quaint, old-fashioned costume of maize-colored -brocade that trailed over the carpet in heavy rustling folds, In short she was the exact counterpart of the por- trait of Judith Severne, hanginy in the hall. “There is no need of an introduction,” said the dashingly beautiful stranger. ‘‘I think you recog- nize me.” ; Mrs. Severne rose up, her hands trembling, her eyes gleaming. “You are Judith Severne, or her spirit.” “Not Judith—my poor mother is dead. But Judith’s daughter. Ozelma Lorne.”’ ‘That's a lie!’ cried the old woman. ‘ Judith left no daughter.” . There was a flash across the velvety darkness of the girl’s eyes. ; **T have the true Severne face,”’ she said haugh- tily. ‘* You cannot deny that. Compare my featr res with the painted face in the hall and no room will be left for doubt.” There was a pause. Mrs. Severne suddenly caught a fold of the brocade robe between her shaking fingers. : “Suppose we grant the truth of your singular as- sertion, Where did you get this dress?” “It was my mother’s. I found’ it carefully laid away in one of her boxes,”’ was the reply, after a scarcely perceptible hesitation. “And the jewels?” : ; “They are only paste,” flushing a little at the confession, ‘‘My mother often described to me how she was dressed when she sat for the portrait. Tt was an easy matter to imitate her costume,” “Humph. It is all ig aaa eee and sensational I am sure,” sneered Mrs. Severne. “Be good enough to tell me in so many words what you expect to acec™nplish, coming here like this.” “1 will,” Ozelma Lorne answered, as cool as the elder woman. ‘ My father and mother are dead—I am alonein the world. For three years I have sup- ported myself by teaching a country school. The dead-alive existence was driving me mad. I could have endured it no longer, I knew you were very rich, and could afford to help me. Being a Severne, I felt [had a right to be benefited by the fortune my ancestors had accumulated.” rs. Severne nodded approval. Here was a nature she could understand, and with which she could sympathize. ' i “Well,” she said grimly, after a moment’s taken a_singular method to “Show Orelma to the pink room, Peters—the one oppcsite Drusilla’s. And you can remain to attend to her wants, if she has any.” It was a great concession for Margaret Severne to make. The new-comer must have understood-as ‘much, for she smiled, and her eyes gleamed. After a half-scornful glance in Drusilla’s direction, a long, searching look at Lester Thornton, who was gazing at her admiringly, she followed the maid from the apartment. Mrs. Severne sat look’ng at her folded hands as they layin her lap, Her face seemed more inseru- table than ever. No one spoke for some moments. It was Lester who broke the oppessive silence. ‘“Do you really intend to harbor this stranger?” “Of course,” grim y- “My purpose has been made known already.’ “She may be an impostor.” “But she isn’t. No one but a Severne ever had thai face.” P She suddenly threw her head back, chuckling audibly. “It is like a page out of a three-volume novel, Lester. I advertised for an heiress, and now have two mote my hands, and can choose between them. 1 shall use one to play against the other, and thus keep them both in_ subjection. I find the situation vastly amusing. Look to Ai Jaurels, Drusilla. Your chances of inheriting the Severne million are growing beautifully Jess.”’ Meanwhile Ozelma Lorne on reaching the cham-~ ber assigned to her use, had abruptly dismissed the maid, saying she did not require her services, and immediately locked the door against all intruders. Her eyes shining, a superb color glowed in her rounded cheeks. “TI have Succeeded beyond my most sanguine ex- pectations,” she said to herself, walking rapidly up and down the elegantly-furnished room, the heavy folds of her trailing robe sweeping the carpet. “The entree to Windymere was _ easily attained. Should every ya in the game I have undertal-en prove as effectual, I shall soon be undisputed mis- tress of the mansion and the old she-dragon’s bones , The prize I covet is worth a desperate struggle. An hour later a knock sounded on the closed door. It was Mrs. Merle, the housekeeper, who entered when she flung back the bolts. A moment the two stood gazing at each other in silence. Then the elder woman spoke, “You are here, Ozelma, and understand the situa- tion. Can you carry the game we have undertaken to a successful termination?” 5 “T have no fears,” was the haughty reply. ‘The word ‘failure’ was never yet written upon my ban- ner.’ ; ‘But you never undertook anything that involved so many risks.” ‘I shall redouble my efforts.” A brief pause. Mrs. Merle stepped to the door, and after listening there a moment, turned away. “No one saw me enter,” she said in a rapid whis- ver. “It must not be suspected that we ever met fore to-day.” : h ‘Tt is unnecessary to caution me.” half-scorn- fully. “Now tell me something of the man I saw in Ian gahtiea hE te It was Lester Thornton, of course?” “Yes, your future husband, should t go according to our liking.” She darted a i glance into the girl’s glowing face. ‘*Whatdo you think of bim?” ‘* He is Mg handsome." “Do you think it will be possible to love him?” The anxiety in the woman's face was too greatto be concealed, * Love him?” echoed the other with a hard laugh. ‘“What difference does it make? I would marry hie ee he uel as Ne rset eae ‘“You must, if you hope ever to reign at Windy- mere as mistress. Mrs. Severne is resolved he hai have a share in her immense wealth. She hag + 4 - at a 4 ad
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12 MARRIED IN HASTE. piecnet a marriage between him ard Drusilla reeme. But you with your superb beauty and cunning arts can easily supplant that girl—in Mrs. Severne’s affections as well as the young man’s love. Inshort, you must step between her and the glittering prize she covets.” ‘The beautiful face was transformed for a second by baleful passion.. The greenish fire of hate flashed from the dusky eyes. - Tt will be at her deadly peril if that girl comes in e way,” she hissed. he next moment she had calmed herself. That radiant face seemed calm and peaceful as the sum- mer ocean. “It is very good of you to interest yourself in my affairs,” she said, looking hard at the woman. ‘““You are my friend. And yet, deep as is the re- gard Pied profess for nie, I cannot resist the convic- tion that the interest you feel in Lester Thornton is still greater. Now tell me sta Mrs. Merle’s face grew dead] almost chattered. ‘‘What delusion are you taking up?’ she stam- mered, etrugeling hard for self-command. ‘*The young man is nothing to me—nothing! For your sake alone am I planning and scheming. rs. Severne likes him. Spon as his wife can you hope to inherit the whole of the immense wealth that must soon go a-begging. That is my reason—my only -reason—for advising this nlarriage.” “No ee of Lester Thornton’s own advantage comes into the question?” “None whatever,’ Mrs. Merle answered, but her head drooped, and a moment later she abruptly went out. ; ‘Ozelma stood for a moment with her beautiful brows knitted in Na pened thought. For years had she been more or less intimately associated with ”? y pale, and her teeth ; F this woman. They two knew imore of each other than any third person knew of either. Mrs. Merle had secured her situation at Windymere with a fixed Py irpose in view. She had been instrumental in brining Oaelma there, accomplishing this as soon as she dared after Drusilla’s abrupt appearance. And yet the beautiful adventuress knew there were pages in the elder woman’s life that had never been opened even for her inspection. “Strange!” she muttered, perplexedly. “T cannot understand why it should be so, but the suspicion will come that Mrs. Merle is working for Lester’s advant rather than mine—that I am only the means to an end. If this is so, I am shrewd enough ; to find out her secret, and Ill de it, too!” | The lamps were lighted before she joined the cir- ele below stairs. She still wore the old-fashioned brocade, and the mock diamonds in her hair. No ornament broke the white outline of the throat or the beautiful arms, bared to the shoulder. She had the air of a queen. Mrs. Severne made room on the sofa at her side. “T knew your mother,” she said, speaking in a tone of unusual kindness. ‘‘ You are wonderfully like her.” Ozelma lifted her beautiful, glowing face with an air of wistful entreaty. “Try to love me for her sake,’ she whispered. “My lonely life has been blessed with very little _ true affection.” ; : Later, she stood in one of the deep window em- ' bras face to face with Lester Thornton. Out- side, the silver stars were shining in a purple sky; the perfumed night-wind came in at the open case- --ment and kissed their cheeks, Lester was almost led as he gazed into those dusky orbs, but he felt 0 thrill of lover-like rapture, “How. beautiful you are!” he exclaimed. ‘ Cleo- pas of old could not have boasted of so bewilder- ng a face, ie j _ Ozelma returned his gaze. He, too, looked like a foto with his dark, manly beauty. But no pulse hrobbed eee oe presence, no thrills of tingling sweethess hot through her veins, 4 — “**T do not love him,” she said to herself. “‘ I never shall. Heis not my fate; but I must be his wife all the same. Havel no heart? or is the only magician who can set it to throbbing still to come?” 5 Ozelma Lorne was destined to have this question answered sooner than she imagined. The torch of love only waited for the hand that could kindle it, when it would burn with consuming fire. CHAPTER IX. _THE MILLS OF GOD. “TJ wave invited my old friend, Morris Has- tings, of Hillside, to dine with me to-day. He will be here at three.” Such was the announcement Mrs, Severne made one morning on rising from the breakfast-table. Hillside was only a short distance away, and cour- tesies of this sort had been exchanged between the two households since time immemorial, Two quiet weeks had drifted on sinee Ozelma Lorne’s advent at Windymere—weeks that brought no important events in their train, The little house- hold was falling into more settled ways—the dif- ferent members coming to know each other better. But this was the only change. When the hour of three came round, bringing with if the expected visitor, Mrs. Severne sat in the drawing-room alone, waiting to receive him, Lester Thornton had gone to the city, and Drusilla was still in her chamber, But the fragrance-breathing conservatory held an occupant. Ozelma Lorne stood there, in the midst of the fragrant bloom and beauty in whfch her sensuous nature delighted. Trailing vines hung in graceful festoons above her head, bright flowers made banks of brilliant beauty on either hand, and the air was laden with the perfume of roses and car- nations. Ozelma stood close to the glass door, now slightly ajar, that led into the ante-room from which the draaving-room opened. ,Sudienly the half-scornful smile faded from her lips, and leaning slightly for- ward, she parted the clustering vines, and gazed with bated breath into the smaller room beyond. Two gentlemen were being ushered in. Ozelma scarcely glanced at the tall, shopping figure of him who walked in advance. Morris Hastings, of course? Her gaze was riveted as though fascinated upon the melancholy-looking, though handsome, young man who followed. “Who is it?” she asked herself, a strange thrill darting through her breast. ‘‘ Aunt Severne expect- ed but one guest.” _ He paused to admire a fine engraving hanging upon the wall, thus affording Ozelma an opportu- nity to study his face still more closely.. e had seen handsomer faces, scores of them, but never one that moved her like this. S Tt was a noble face, but unutterably sad. A shadow rested about the firm, mobile mouth, the dark soft eyes were full of brooding sorrow. As Ozelma cae, she feit the surges of passion rising and swelling in her heart. Her pulses beat, her brain burned, the blood seemed to course with lightning-like rapidity through her veins. ‘She “Looked up and loved him, With a love that was her doom.” “Strange!” she muttered, gazing into that sad, grave face like one entranced, ‘I have sometimes fancied myself incapable of a grand passion. And fe I fee] that I could die for this man I never saw. »efore, to whom I have not spoken, of whose very name I am ignorant.” ‘ oa clasped her hands tightly above her beating eart. “Tlove him—he is my doom,” she wailed. ‘“ And yet, Heaven pity me, I must give myself to. another!’ “ Meanwhile, within the luxurious drawing-room, Mr. Hastings and Mrs. Severne had met, and were | interchanging greetings,
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MARRIED IN HASTE. a ——— “T am very glad to see you,” old Margaret said with greater oneany. than she often expressed. We were always the best of friends, Morris. I dis- cuss my affairs with you as though you were a brother, I might as well tell you at the outset thatl am now in need of your assistance and advice—” She paused, abruptly, at. this moment catching sight of the inert figure in the ante-room. % 4 stranger! Who is it, Morris, a friend you have brought along?” The old gentleman smiled. “No, Margaret. That is Ward Templeton, my private secretary and companion.” The name did not enlighten Mrs, Severne in the least. She had heard it before, to be sure, but it did not occur to her at the moment that the people with whom Drusilla had been associated for some time were called Templeton. But she found something vastly amusing in the thought of the position the young man occupied in the household of her old friend, “Private secretary ! epmpanion! she repeated secornfully. ‘“‘Have you failen suddenly into your dotage, Morris Hastings? Really this is too absurd.” The old gentleman flushed angrily. “Why shouldn’t I have a companion if I desire one? They are often engaged by old ladies like yourself, when they are lonely or indolent. I fail to see what right your sex has to monopolize the enus. 2 “To be sure,” laughed Mrs. Severne. ‘‘Engage a dozen, if you wish. It is no business of mine. But, really, I can’t imagine what you find for him to Go,” ‘Mr, Templeton reads to me, writes my letters, amuses me when feeling dull, and transacts any trifling matter of business that 1 do not wish to in- trust to a servant,’’ Mr. Hastings answered stiffly. “ T find him a great acquisition.”’ “Indeed. I am growing interested. your prodigy in and present him to me.” Mrs. Severne received the young man kindly, In- deed there was something in his noble bearing and grave dignity that impressed her strangely. She found herself turning constantly to gaze at him, and something in his voice sounded familiar, like a half- forgotten melody. She soon an to speak freely in his presence. “Now I am going to tell you why I invited you to dine with me to-day, Morris,” she said abruptly. to ee old friend. “IT intimated when you entered that was in need of your advice.” T shall be glad to give it, Margaret,” said the old gentleman with a courtly bow. It is not in the nature of things that I can live many years longer. For some time now I have been thinking seriously of finding some one to succeed me—an heir to my immense possessions—”’ . I thought Lester Thornton—” Lester Thornton is well enough in his way,”’ in- big agp old Margaret sharply. ‘‘ But [do not fancy the idea of leaving everything to him, He repre- sents but one side of the family—my dead husband's; ene are others who have still stronger claims upon Mrs. Severne picked up a fan that lay beside her, and began plying it leisurely. In short, I have been led into doing something foolish as well as you, Morris,” she resumed, “‘Iad- vertised for a missing relative, and found her. She had been here but a few days before another unex- pectedly put in an appearance. You will see them both at dinner. Please observe closely, and give me a opinion of each, afterward. I intend to choose tween the two, marry the fortunate one to Lester, and give the young people everything.” The old woman had secretly made her choice al- ready. She intended to stick to her old preference for Drusilla. But it would be a comfort to know that a valued friend like Morris Hastings, thorough- ly approved it. “Who are these newly-found relatives?” the old gentleman inquired, really interested, Pray call ” ‘One is the daughter of runaway Judic- whom, perhaps, you remember,” . “Yes, I knew her very well. And the other!" “Ts Drusilla Dreeme, Garrison’s only child.” Ward Templeton had been paying very little hee to the conversation, But at the mention of that name his heart gave a great strangling throb of pain: He started up pallid, incredulous, fairly gasping for breath. “Whom did you say?” he hoarsely panted, seiz- ing hold of old Margaret’s arm. > She stared, but repeated the name. The young man’s deep emotion amazed her, but even then she had no inkling of the real truth. “You may have heard of Drusilla,” she said. ‘‘ Sit down; I will give you a few facts concerning her his- tory if you wish,”’ Ward sunk into a chair. Great drops of anguish . were starting upon his forehead, For some mo- ments it seemed to him that he must be going mad. “Tt is like a story,” Mrs. Severne said, then laugh- ed. ‘ Drusilla was leading 2 dog’s life. Her parents were dead, and had left her penniless. She was working for her daily bread in a common, dirty fac- tory when she found my advertisement. Poor thing; it must have seemed like divine interposition in her behalf. The hard, common life sha led was utterly abhorrent to her nature. I can imapne how she exulted at bbe yi ceiect of being rid of it. She made her home with some goody people as poor as herself. I believe she was sincerely attached to them. But she knew that the old life must be for- gotten, and her old associates given up, if I consent- ed to receive her into my house. But of'course wealth and position tipped the balance, and she came ‘to me. Ward’s face was now hidden in his hands. ‘‘ My God!” burst hoarsely from his quivering lips. Old Margaret was looking down at her yellow, jeweled hands, and did not even hear. ‘Chance favored Drusilla,’ she went on, repeat- ing the story as she had received it from Lester Thornton. ‘‘Of course these poor peop might have proved a great annoyance to her. e was at a loss how to rid herself of them effectually. But their house burned down, in the nick of time, and she escaped in the confusion, leaving her humble friends to believe that she had perished in the flames.” Ward Templeton could bear no more. White, ghastly, cold, he rose and staggered into the ante- room. His heart beat heavy and thick, great drops stood upon his forehead. Fy So it was Drusilla herself, and no vision of a diseased imagination, he had beheld looking in at the window that dark and stormy night. He clinched his trembling hands. An agony. ter- rible as that of death shot through his frame, His staring eyes saw nothing but dancing lights, and a sound as of surging waters was in his ears. Drusilla lived! She was under that very roof! All his grievous sorrow had been for nothing—she had deliberately deceived him. Was it possible for any one to be so cruel, so heart- less, so utterly selfish? Death, even the sudden, horrible death he had been led to believe had over- taken her, seemed as nothing in comparison. Little Drusy, the dear,innocent, trusting child he had loved so devotedly—could it be she had been led into a course so unworthy? = He raised his white face, so terrible in its ashen allor. He stretched out his trembling, passionate nands. “God forgive her for dealing me this cruel blow,”’ he said, aloud. ‘I never will.” oh Fs Ji Even as he spoke there came & pre |, the - door slowly unclosed, and Drusilla stood before him, CHAPTER X.. PORN A 5, STEEPED IN BITTERNESS. frgorys Torn, few breathless moments they stood gazing _ at each other, and neither uttered a word, ard a ae a %
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was, to a certain extent, prepared for- unter. But Drusilla had been taken wholly rise. She felt an intense Jonging to spring ard and sob out all her grief and penitence on her lover’s bosom, but something in his cold, steady gaze restrained her. : rt But she took a hasty step toward him, raising her fair, sweet face, now pale with bewilderment and terror. ‘ “Ward, is it really you?’ she breathed, in a low, frightened tone. “ YT -aid not expect to see you here. Why don’t you speak to me?” She drew still néarer, and would have rested her two hands upon his arm in the old familiar, loving gesture, but he thrust her away violently. “Do not touch me. This is my reward for the affection and trust I gave fee Fool! I might have known there was no such thing in the world as pure, disinterested love,” : 7. “Oh, Ward, what are you saying to me?’ she cried in the accents of intense suffering and dread. “Tt is good to hear the truth spoken in unvarnish- ed language,” he answered bitterly. With a cry of anguish Drusilla sunk on her knees before him and lifted her white face, so full of pite- ous entreaty. All the sorrow, yearning, and re- mo ce) one long, lonely days of separation was n that . s “‘ Ward, forgive me,” she pleaded. “Ihave sinned, but I have also suffered. No wonder you are angry with me. Won’t you try to think of the past as though it had never been? Won't you give me the opportunity to atone?” “ You have deceived me once—I could never trust you azain,” he answered coldly, ‘It is useless to plead to me.” et Bir A moan of distress broke from her quivering lips. She stared at him wildly, almost incredulously. Was this the patient, devoted lover who had once been so submissive to a look or the gentlest behest? - You do not understand,” she murmured, faintly. “T understand but too well. Rise, Drusilla, do not kneel to me.” They were too deeply engrossed to hear the rustle of Ozelma Lorne’s dress in the conservatory. And et she had come close to the glass door; she was ooking and listening. At first with jealous rage and wonder, but later, as she noticed the cold light on Ward Templeton’s ghastly face, with a feeling of growing satisfaction. Poor Drusilla could no longer restrain herself. Seizing one of his listless hands, she pressed it against her cheek, down which scalding tears of remorse were now falling. “Pity me! be merciful!” she sobbed. “Tam so wretched, so peer. I was tired of the uncon- genial life Lled, and the prospect of inheriting aunt Severne’s wealth presented a great temptation. It finally overcame me. I have been weak and wicked, Ward, recreant to the trust reposed in me. Can you not understand how a young, impulsive girl might beled by a glittering bait such as was thrown in my way? You seemed cold and indifferent, Ward; I fancied youloved your own ambitious plans better than you loved me. But there has not been a mo- ment since I left the dear, humble cottage that was my home whenI would not gladly have returned to its shelter.” “Do you recall under what cirenmstances you went away?’ “Too well,” sh» answered, a hot flush of shame rising to her temples. He fell back a step, and his rigid face seemed to harden yet more when he s9oke. “That poor little cottage, shabby and barren as it seemed to you, was my home; I loved it dearly. The happiest hours of my life had been passed within its walls. It was being consumed to the gropnd when you looked your last upon it. You id not linger to learn what had been my fate, or that of the patient, devoted woman who had been dike a mother to you,, Cold, cruel, selfish, unfeel- MARRIED IN HASTE. ing you turned away, leaving us to the agonizing fear that you had perished in the flames. You must have exulted over the opportunity fate threw in your way. You did not care what we might suf- fer, or what befell us. Your only thought was to be rid of us forever—left free to follow out your ambitious schemes.” *Oh, Ward, you judge me too harshly,” she cried, imploringly, putting up her hands. ‘‘One word—let me explain—” “You can say nothing to atone for the utter heartlessness of your conduct,” he coldly inter- rupted. ‘t Nothing to bring back the noble life that was sacrificed.” **Life? sacrificed?” she repeated. Then the truth broke rhecesic of upon her mind. She recalled the scene she had looked in upon out of the darkness and storm, that memorable night. A bitter wail sounded over her trembling lips. “Mrs. Templeton is dead!” He gazed sternly down at her. _ “Yes. But, thank God, she died without know- _ how unworthy and selfish you had shown your- self, It was like a blow. She tried to control herself, but spasms of pain chased each other over her working face. che crouched lower and lower in her grief and humiliation, until the long, silken curls of nut-brown hair swept his feet. ro “T was not prepared for this,” she panted. Ward, I loved your mother, loved her truly. I would gladly give my own life to recall hers. Let me plead to youin her name. She wished to see us happy. Iam willing to give up all—everything save our love. I will leave this house now, this very hour, and beg my bread, if necessary, for your sake. What are riches and social position without you? Only i gap one kind word to me. Iam not so cruel and heartless as you have imagined, Only say that you forgive and will trust me still,” It is strange how he resisted such passionate pleading. Had the wound been less deep, it would not have been possible. The sweet face, the sad, en- treating voice, the falling tears, touched him deeply. But he recalled Mrs. Severne’s words, the bare, hard facts of Drusilla’s sudden flight, the unbroken si- lence of the intervening weeks. These facts rankled in his heart like poisoned arrows. There could be no doubt but she had fully intended to rid herself of him forever. It was only a momentary fit of peni- oe and remorse that now led her to humble her- self. “Forgive you?” he repeated, with an access of bitterness as these thoughts flitted through his mind, ‘Never! I know you were tired of me long ago, You have dealt me the cruelest blow man ever received. Avarice and ambition are the ruling pas- sions of your heart. I will not stand in your way. Go on in the career you have begun. Deck yourself out in silks and jewels; gather about you all the lux- uries and honors this world can bestow. It does not matter, Should these things pall, and turn to Dead Sea fruit, it is nothing to me. You are only reaping as you have sown. It is the career you deliberately chose for yourself. Drusilla, you can never be even a friend to me again.” He turned abruptly as he spoke, Drusilla half rose to her feet, and staggered after him a few steps, uttering a faint ery of distress. os Mercy! mercy! Ishall die if you leave me like this.’ He would not even look back. Passing on rapidly, he entered the drawing-room where Mr. Hastings and Mrs. Severne still sat, chatting amicably. The latter looked up with an expression of wonder, as she beheld his ghastly face. apse is the matter, Mr. Templeton? Are you ill? ; She started up impulsively. Whether it was the quick, impetuous movement, or some other cause, will never be known. But suddenly the heavy chan- delier under which she sat, began to oscillate. Ward |
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. MARRIED IN HASTE. ib Ot i had barely time to spring forward and drag her for- cibly from her perilous position when it fell with a loud crash. ‘Mrs. Severne escaped uninjured. But she was hor- rified, as she turned, trembling and anting, to see the youne man lying stark and still a. her feet. “He is dead!” she shrieked. ‘‘ One of the branches must have struck him.” : Her startled cry was echoed by a sweet young voice, quivering with arcvuish and horror, rf Dru- silla rushed past and knelt beside her unconscious lover. “Look up! Speak to me, Ward!” she implored in accents cf piteous entreaty. Clasping his cold ae she covered them with passionate tears and “My God! He is dead! me again, Hon beguiitul Tinea er beauti ead drooped, her sad eyes closed and with a long. shuddering "sigh she wet atwa, beside him insensible. 4 Mrs. Severne and her guest stared at each other in wondering dismay. To them the scene was ut- terly incomprehensible. But another entered, at this moment, who under- stood it perfectly. Lester Thornton had returned unexpectedly from the city. A moment he stood as though rooted to the spot, his handsome face dark- ening with anger and dread. Then he addressed Mrs. Severne in a hurried whisper: “What was this fellow doing here? How did he find Drusilla out?” ** Who—who—is he?” panted old Margaret, ‘‘ What do you mean?” é He will never speak to Never know how fondly and truly I love A single word sufficed to explain all. So. this was’ the low-born lover to whom Lester had once or twice referred? The woman’s eyes flashed, and she rung a sharp peal upon the bell, “Bring help and earry this child to, her room, and bring restoratives,’’ she said to the servant who appeared, fterward she bent over Ward, touching her jew- eled hand to his forehead. “T do not think he is dead,” she cried suddenly. “Bring a physician. He saved my life—I cannot wish him ill. But it is most unfortunate that chance brought him to Windymere.”’ CHAPTER XI. PATIENT AND NURSE. WueEn Ward Templeton recovered consciousness, he was lying upon a couch in the most elegantly- furnished apartment he had ever seen. It was even- ing; the soft, subdued glow of wax-light fell or the velvet hangings and costly adornments. A y' la, u physician stood near, measuring some liquid into a glass. Ward stirred, and the physician leaned over the couch, gazing at him with eager scrutiny. “You are better,” he said. “I am glad. Drink this cordial.” The young man obeyed. He was still too weak to have a will of his own, When the glass had been removed from his lips, he fell back with a strange sense of giddiness and.apathy, * How jong this stupor lasted he never knew. He felt a his head ached, his brain burned, At last he roused a little, and realized that the doctor had gone and a woman taken his place, The soft rustle of her dress was audible from time to time, and a faint odor of violets floated to him where he lay. — Finally he turned_to look at her, It was no hired nurse who sat beside the couch, but the most mar- velously-beautiful woman he had ever beheld. The brilliant, beautiful face, with its siren eyes, its lur- _ing li s and rich, warm tints, was ‘turned to- ward him, and something in its expression made his heart leap, “Is this Windymere?” he inquired, with an effort —for he felt uncertain, es ‘“Yes,’’? she replied, in_a voice of liquid music, “But pray do not talk. You are very weak,” ** Will you not tell me something of yourself?” “What does it matter? You were so ill, and had shown yourself so brave and noble, I could not leave you to be nursed by a hireling. Mrs, Severne is a distant relation. I am Ozelma Lorne.” Ward lay silent and thoughtful. His reflections: were not pleasant ones. She—a stranger—could come to him with kindness and sympathy in his danger, but Drusilla remained aloof. Well, what else had he to expect? Her so-called love had been weighed before in the balance and tound wanting. How was he to know that poor Drusilla, at that very moment, was shut into one of the apartments at the other end of the house, too weak and faint to leave her couch® The night passed like a confused dream. Much of the time Ward lay in a sort of stupor. But through it all he was always conscious of Ozelma’s continued presence in the room. She moved about grave, deft silent, anticipating every want, like an_ angel o blessing. The touch of her soft, cool hand upon his ° forehead, even in the moments of greatest restless- ness, had almost the soothing effect of an opiate. Toward morning he roused a little and spoke. ‘* Where is Miss Dreeme? Has she made no at- tempt to see me?” ; Ozelma shook her head. ‘Drusilla seemed out of sorts. and retired early. She left orders with her maid that she was on no ac- count to be disturbed.” A bitter smile curved Ward’s lips. ‘‘ Heartless and selfish as ever,”? was his mental comment. As Ozelma sat watching the sick man, her heart beat in a wild tumult, The blood rushed in a fiery flood through her veins, and her dark eyes glowed with a passionate light. She who had laughed at love was stricken as with the plete. She could have given her life for thisgrave, handsome stranger who had so unexpectedly crossed her path. “Tf he stood in Lester Thornton’s place. T would win him or die,” she said to herself. “I should be deliciously happy. But now—” Well, the situation must be studied. She loved wealth and power. She had come to Windymere to acquire them, and of course the d secre of Morris Hastings could offer neituer. But, then, what a create pilgrimage life would be without love now she had had one taste of its delights. She had flirted with Lester Thornton, and set her- self deliberately to insnare him, But ove was not the impelling motive. Not a single pulse had ever thrilled responsively to his voice or touch. “This stranger is to be my doom,” she whispered, her eyes lingering wistfully upon the aed noble face, from which the rings of damp hair thrown carelessly back. ‘Iam almost powerless to flee from his presence. Why should I? Nay, let me drink for a time of the cup held to my lips, be the ae eect? AS what they may.” — In the soft, opal light of early eae weak, tottering figure descended the stairs and stole alon the corridor, clinging to the wall for Ward was sleeping at the time. But, above the low sound of his breathing Ozelma’s quick ear detected that slow, hesitating step, . Rising hastily, she stepped outside the door, clos- ing it carefully behind her. The worn white face, raised so wistfully to hers, should have awakened compassion, but it did not. ‘ hy he better?’ Drusilla asked in a faint, eager whisper. “Yes, There is hope,” Ozelma answered. “But he must be kept very quiet. He is sleeping now.” “Thank God. en I saw him lying there so faint and white, I fancied he was dead.” Drusilla had never liked the beautiful girl; but now she seized her hand and kissed it gratefully. “Tt was very foe and kind of you to remain with him, Ozelma. I was too weak to rise, or I should have béen here before. Has he asked for me?” were -
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16 MARRIED IN HASTE. “Never once,” came the unblushing response. Drusilla’s eyes filled with sudden tears. “He is angry with me still. How doubly hard it s ems to have the brunt of his displeasure to bear ut such a time! But I deserve to suffer.” Then she raised her soft eyes in a pleading look. ‘‘Let me enter. Let me look at his face just ovce, Then I will go ts aeh; away.” “What comfort would it be to you?” said Ozelma sharply. ‘You plead like a foolish child. Mr. Templeton must on no account be disturbed.” “Only one look,” Drusilla entreated. ‘He might awaken. . He is too weak to bear the least excitement. I feel compelled to deny your re- quest,”’ Hastily re-entering the sick chamber, Ozelma closed the door upon the wretched pleader. Two or three hours later, she ventured to come again. Her eyes were red with weeping, her sweet face haggard and worn with grief, Ozelma intercepted her in the corridor as before. “You should not come here,’ she said coldly. ** What is the use? Mr. Templetov does not wish to see you.” “Did he say so?’’ whispered the faint, agonizing voice, “Yes,” was the unhesitating response. ‘He seems to dislike you, and said you were not to be admitted. I shall not venture to disregard his in- structions.” Drusilla clasped her trembling hands. ‘* Oh, this is very hard!’ she moaned, turning pway, The sick man looked up wistfully when Ozelma again approached the couch. ‘* You were speaking with some one in the corridor,” he said eagerly, ** Who was it?” ‘ “ Only one of the maids." Ward heaved pane of disappointment. He fancied he io Ce iy he voice, ‘‘I was mistaken,’ he . aself. “‘ She will not come. Why should I wish it? . His only visitor during the day was Mrs, Severne. Late in the afternoon old Margaret entered the room, resplendent in rustling brocade and old Flem- ish point that might have purchased a king’s ran- som. 4 “Dr, P ed A tells me you are threatened with fever,” d. “TI hope you will escape it. I should be sorry to have you suffer on my account. Sas this house has to offer is at your dis- posal She paused abruptly, a startled look flaming into her bead-like eyes. It often Papnens that sickness brings out a likeness never before noticed or sus- . Mrs. Severne saw something of the sort at the peceent moment. She fell back a step, flushing purple. ‘*Strange,’’ she muttered. ‘‘ What an extraordi- nary resemblance.” Ozelma was standing near. Her quick ears caught the words, and she turned with a glow of eager interest. “What do you mean? Explain yourself, aunt. Is Mr. Templeton like any one you have ever known?"’ But old Margaret had recovered herself. ‘‘ Ask Lester Thornton,” was the non-committal reply. And with a short laugh, the woman went her way. But Ozelma had found food for reflection. If there was a mystery,she possessed sufficient shrewd- ness to find it out. Poor Drusilla made a last attempt to see her alien- _ ated lover. As the cool, fragrant twilight fell, she found the door unguarded for a moment. Ward heard her light, swift step crossing the floor, and turned his face to the wall with a bitter cry. “How dare you come here?’ he panted, all his anger and resentment rising in arms. ‘I hoped never to see you again. Go—leave me.” “Will you not give me one kind word?” breathed the poor girl. ‘* Will you not assure me that we are friends again?” He half-raised himself, and pointed to the door, looking so pallid and excited she was half-terrified. “Unless you go at once I shall ring for a servant to take you away.” How she got back to her room the heart-sick girl scarcely knew. Mrs. Severne stood there, just across the threshold, her yellow old face livid with anger. , “T will allow no nonsense,”’ she said, her eyes blazing. ‘‘The sick man is nothing to you; you are less than Cire. 8 to him. Lester Thornton’s | wife must be above the folly of running after old sweethearts. I aes you understand. You are to see him no more, I seldom condescend to warn the second time. Please bear that fact in mind.”’ And she went out and Jocked the door, CHAPTER XII. THE T RNING TIDE. Arter the first day Ward began to gain strength. The wound he had received from the falling chan- delier pained him less, and the fever began to abate Ozelma Lorne kept her post as self-constituted nurse. Mrs. Merle had remonstrated with her, but uselessly. She fully realized her folly, but was pow- erless to struggle against it, so deep was the in- fatuation to which she had succumbed. Ward's eyes began to follow her with growing in- terest. She made a oer ager moving about the sick-room, bestowihg deft, noiseless touches here and there. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. Ward’s languid gaze delighted to linger upon her queenly form, her brilliant face, the glowing tint of her lips, the rich color playing in her cheeks, the d ky Bo endor of her fragrant hair, One day when the uence of her presence seem- ed stronger than usual he said abrupt ‘e : “Tt is not usual for one so young and beautiful to give up all the pleasures of society and devote her- self to a ‘sick stranger. Why have you done so, Miss Lorne?’ Her face flushed crimson, and her musical voice trembled as she replied: “You have no friends, no sister or mother, It seemed cruel to leave you to suffer alone.” “And so, out of the goodness of your heart, you have devoted yourself to my service?” She drew nearer, as though impelled by a mag. netism over which she had no control, ‘*T have found pleasure in ministering to your wants, * she softly answered. “It has been no hard- p. A brief silence ensued, Ward felt the warm blood coursing like a lava-flood through his veins. He trembled, and his heart throbbed deliriously. Man- like, he found it impossible to resist the seductive spell of such beauty and devotedness. * You are a good, noble woman,” he said huskily, holding out his weak hands. ‘“ There are afew such in this hollow world. If you loved, I believe you woes - cere — ae nto death,” she solemnly repeated, leanin; over him, and gathering his hands pit her own. e Both trembled as they gazed into each other's eyes. Ozelma could not hide the passionate ardor’ in her own. It burned in their beautiful depths like a consuming fire. All the world was forgotten—it was one of those moments when love reigns tri- umphant. ; ‘You would sacrifice wealth and position for him wig had won your heart?” he whispered breath- essly. é ‘Yes. They would not be weighed in the halance one moment, Poverty, suffering, even disgrace would be met without a murmur.” He. drew her nearer. Some passionate words trembled upon his lips. But they were never utter- ed. Mrs. Merle eutered at that moment—the spell ig Mag pop “t 6 housekeeper gave them a sharp, angry glance as she a prowshae Bending over Oeciiua, she whispered a few hurried words in her ear,
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MARRIED IN HASTE. % _—. “Are you mad? Would you sacrifice all your hopes of the future to a short-lived foily?”’ Then she stepped between the girl and the couch. Ward Templeton had been in the house three days, but this was the first. time she had entered the sick- chamber or ever beheld him. One apianse, and she fell back suddenly, a hoarse, startled cry breaking from her lips, She bad been struck, like Mrs. Severne, by the remarkable re- semblance he bore to some person she had known. as ! Who are you?” - Ward echoed the exclamation, though for a very different cause. Blazing uron the third finger of the housekeeper’s left hand wasaring of singular design —a ruby cross, tipped with diamonds, in a setting of Etrusean gold! The sight of the unique ornament recalled Mrs. Templeton’s strange disclosure. It did not seem possible the ring could have a counterpart in the wor'd. It had the appearance of being an heirloom. Ward felt his heart thrill with eager anticipation, The woman had seemed struck by something famil- iar in his appearance, Could it be he had accidentally stumbled upon the ‘on Ab ee who could unravel the mystery of the s Seiring hold of her arm, he spoke in a hoarse, agi- whisper, : “Woman, you ask who I am. The question is, I believe, one you are better able to answer than Tam. An overruling Providence has brought us face to face. It is the will of Heaven that all things shall be explained.” eee subdued, Mrs, Merle sunk eaees and breathless into a chair that stood beside the couch. “What do you mean?’ she faltered. ‘“I—I—do not understand. Why do you address to me such inexplicable words?” “Because I fully believe you are the woman who consigned me to the charge of my foster-mother, more than twenty years ago,” Mrs. Merle uttered one low cry, and covered her ghastly face with her hands. “i My God!” . Ward drew them angril away. ‘Look at me,” he stern y commanded. ‘Tellme the truth. Are you that woman, or are you not?” She raised her head defiantly, and seemed to. rally her energies by a desperate effort, “Tt is a singular question for ask, I am utterly bewildered—at a loss to under- stand what you can mean. Is there a mystery in your life, the solution of which you seek through my instrumentality?” “Yes,” he replied. ‘All the years of my lifel have borne a name not my own, "Of my father and mother, and my true position in the world, I know absolutely nothing, Do not keep mea moment in bo a Le If you can reveal the secret, do so imme- dia‘ Boh Ozelma looked from one to the other in wonder, She remarked the young man’s intense earnestness —she read also thé abject terror and dread written upon the woman’s face. It was so great that her lips quivered and she shook like a leaf in the wind, d era her efforts at self-control. Did Mrs. Merlé rea ty hold the key to. the mystery enshrouding Ward Templeton’s life? Ozelma waited with bated breath for her to speak. “Ward may belong to a wealthy and honored fam- ily,’ she thought. “If so, I shall give up all thought of Windymerejand aunt Severne’s millions. Noth- ing will stand between us, and I will win him or e, No wonder she leaned toward them with parted lige and hushed breathing. é housekeeper took another moment in which to collect her Ce She was not one who often found herself at a loss. 3 *“You are laboring under a delusion of some na- ture,” she said. ‘‘I fail to fully gather your mean- ing, even yet. You are a founc ling, it seems, and ou, a stranger, to k ] i f rid have somehow taken up the strange fancy that ! now all about your birth and parentage. Is not that the way the case stands?” 4 * Yes, wean ago, when I was only a little babe, my dear foster-mother one day encountered a strange woman in one of the New York parks. The woman held me in her arms.- Some words she over- heard my foster-mother say, induced her to offer me to her for adoption. We will not waste words. Answer-my question. Are you that woman? The white lips opened, but she was compelled to make several efforts before any sound escaped them, : “Tam not,” she ‘replied, sullenly. “T never saw you before, and know nothing of your history. Now tell me why you have taken up so absurd a fancy.”’ Ward pointed to the ring on her finger. : “This woman wore one precisely like it.» I have heard my foster-mother describe it too minutely to be mistaken. It is a very peculiar ring—I doubt if there can be another like it in existence, The expression of Mrs. Merle’s face poe i and acaen she seemed to find extreme difficulty in re- plying. x TAs ties rink is not mine,” she stammered. “ Not yours?” : ‘““T should have said it has bélon to me but a ‘erhaps,’’ looking very few ae ya five or six. ad better tell you how it came at him furtively, ‘I nto my possession?” **Do so.”’ “Tt is not much of a story. A few years since I hired lodgings in a tenement-house in New York city. The woman who occupied the next room was bt | ill,” Ido not even know her name. She seem- ed destitute and friendless. I often watched with her, and purchased such little delicacies as she could 1é Was very grateful formy kindness. She looked like a woman with a history—I knew she had But she never alluded to her ee ay The day she died she called me to her side. ‘** God will reward your goodness to a homeless relish. seen better days. stranger,’ she said, with tears in her eyes, ‘Take- this ring; it is all L have to give. Itis re jew- ou ; another, Take it, with my heartfelt thanks!’ ‘‘She was very weak, but she succeeded in draw- el, but no matter; I would rather ing the ring from her own finger and slipping it upon miné. I have worn it ever since.” Ward heaved a sigh of bitter disappointment. Were shi hopes to be dashed thus suddenly to the ground? “Can you tell me nothing more of thestranger?” he asked eagerly. f Mrs. Merle shook her head. ; ““No one came to claim the body. There was nothing among her few belongings to throw any light upon her history. ‘The landlady took posses- sion of whatshe left. This poor, friendless woman might have told you all you wish to know. It was she, doubtless, who consigned you to the tender mercy of your foster-mother.” At an ; ry, truth of the story. He might have remem ; that Mrs. Merle had evidently recog moment she entered. Just now he did not; he was ill, excited, weak; his mind seemed dreamy and con- used. : * But Ozelma’s was clear enough. The house- keeper’s livid face and Serene 5 Sa id not esca er observ. 1. ‘Bh tt ane eee yaa followed her into the cor- r’. : e What is this mystery?’ she said, abruptly. “That clever fiction did not impose upon me, You know more of the sick man’s history than you are willing to acknowledge. Whatisthetruth?’ Mrs. Merle looked up at the beautiful girl, pale with terror; but ana light blazed in her eyes. “Precisely what you have heard—nothing. more,” left the room, Oze a tzed_ hi alee BA other time Ward might have doubted Z
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18 MARRIED IN HASTE. 7 know better. Do not think to deceive me—I know you too well; you will not succeed. You could solve this mystery with a word!” J The pale lips flew apart in a cruel sneer. “T understand,”’ she said scoffingly. ‘‘ You would be only too glad if [had a secret to-disclose. You have fallen in love with the young man’s hand- some face; your infatuation has become the talk of the house. You have gone love-mad, and are sacri- ficing the brilliant prospects of the future for an idle delusion,” Before the other could reply, she quickly added: “Be warned in time. I brought you here to be- come Lester Thornton’s wife. He is your fate; do not seek to escape it. I am not one to be easily turned aside from any scheme I have undertaken,”’ Ozelma drew herself proudly erect. “‘Neither am I,” she said. ‘Be good enough to confine yourself to the question at issue. You can trust me, tory.” “f do not know. I am as ignorant as yourself. Do not deludé yourself with any foolish romance, Ozelma. Wealth and position are within your grasp. If you are wise you will not sacrifice them for an idle dream, Were the truth known, the young man’s parents were no better than they should be. It is usually so. He must have been a shame to pee aa otherwise they would never have cast him off. She moved hastily away. as though anxious to ut an end to the conversation, A sudden impulse ed Ozelma to follow, noiselessly. A few yards fur- ther on the corridor diverged sharply to the right. At this point Mrs. Merle met one of. the servants. ““ Where is Mr. Thornton?” she asked, an eagerness that could not be concealed in her voice. ‘* He left early this morning for the city.” * A low exclamation of disappointment escaped her S. Ry must see him. A matter of extreme impor- tance. How unfortunate that he should be away! Will you let me know the moment he returns?” “Yes,” replied the man. ‘ But he is to be absent two or three days.” Another cry of disappointment from the house- keeper. Ozelma felt like echoing it. Her very blood was on fire with anxiety and suspense. Why should Mrs, Merle be so extremely anxious to see Lester Thornton unless some secret understanding existed between the two, and she desired to tell him what had transpired? _ “When that interview does take place, I must manage to be within hearing,”’ she told herself. ‘Some marvelous revelations may come to light.” Controlling herself with difficulty, she re-entered the sick-chamber. But imagination was still busy. She began to analyze, as never before, what had been Lester’s demeanor toward herself. The result startled her. She was positive he loved Drusilla; and yet in his treatment-of herself there had been an air of proprietorship, as though their future rela- tions were definitely settled. ““He and Mrs. Merle are playing a deep game,” was her mental conclusion, “and I am only a help- less puppet in their hands. They think to fashion my course to suit their wishes. e shall see! ‘ CHAPTER XITt. A STARTLING DISCOVERY. Tur next day Ward Templeton felt so much better - he decided to return at once to Hillside. It seemed a humiliation to remain under the same roof that sheltered Drusilla, and he longed to be away. ; Mr. Hastings had sent a sort of ambulance for his comfort, and the journey could be undertaken with- out fear of the consequences, When the moment for'parting from Ozelma came, he held the hand of the beautiful girl a long time in his clasp. Her kindness, devotion, and evident at- tachment to himself had woven a spell over his senses not easy to be shaken off. Se What is Ward Templeton’s true his-. ‘“‘T shall miss you sadly,” he said, in a tremblin voice, “No patient ever had a more faithfu nurse,” He saw the light fade from her eyes, the happy glow from her beautiful face. ‘You are really going?” she breathed, “TY must. I could not remain here. I am gsuf- ficiently strong to return to the house of my em- ployer. He wishes me to come.” ‘But what am I to do without you? Life will seem so darkened, so changed!” The words seemed to break involuntarily from her lips. Ward looked at her earnestly. If he had felt any doubt of her love, it was set at rest forever. She stood before him trembling with misery, her bril- liant face white as death. Here was one, he told himself, who could be true and faithful—who loved him for himself alone—who could never be turned aside by avarice, ambition, or worldly honor. Why st ould he not claim such a prize and cling to it forever? The temptation was so strong he wondered at him- self for putting off her trembling hands and turning away. ay We shall meet again,” he said, hastily. ‘‘Not at Windymere, perhaps; I could not come here again, at least for some time. But elsewhere.” _ The color flowed into Ozelma’s face in an angry tide as she saw him supported down the steps, and lifted into the carriage that stood waiting. “He might have spoken one tender word,” she said. ‘‘No matter. shall win him yet. may never be his wife, but I will have his love.” The carriage paused a moment at the avenue gate, Ward fancied he heard his own name faintly uttered and raised his head from the velvet cushion where it reposed. He caught the flutter of a white dress in, the shrubbery, and Drusilla came up breathlessly and stood beside the carriage. Was it Drusilla? For a moment he almost doubted. The young girl seemed so changed. She looked up at him with a wan, haggard face, devoid of all light: and color. “Are you so relentless?” she said in a low voice that quivered with misery. ‘‘Do you intend to go away without haviug forgiven me?” His strong heart thrilled with delicious pain. There was.a mad impulse to stretch out his arms and draw her close to his beating side. Deeply as she had wronged him, she had once been to him as part of himself—his very life. ‘ Another moment, and he might have yielded. But his wandering glance nr Yi to rest upon the gray walls of Windymere, its beautiful grounds with their waving trees, brilliant fiowers, playin fountains, and long stretches of velvety emeral kissed by the golden sunlight. For these things had Drusilla betrayed him. For , these had she proved recreant to the trust reposed . her. He started back as though struck a sudden ow. “Forgive you?” he repeated, ‘Never. Do not deceive yourself. or think to deceive me. You may imagine yourself truly penitent now, but the emo- tion would be short-lived. You are wedded to the flesh-pots of Egypt. You and I have nothing in common. There are mistakes for which nothi can atone. I trust you will never annoy me again.’ They were cruel words—how cruel he did not real- ize until long after having uttered them. Drusilla staggered and shivered under them as though she had received a shock. The white lips opened, and some feeble words fell from them which he could not hear. Then the carriage rolled on—be saw her no more. But the wan. white, pleading face, as he beheld it last, lingered forever afterward in his memory. It was evening of the second day when Lester Thornton returned from the city. Standing at one of the upper windows, in the late twilight, Ozeima, OO
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bit aE. Saw him drive along the avenue. The sky was over- cast, a wailing wind tossed the tree-tops and a few drops of rain had already fallen; it promised to be” an inclement night. Ozelma was not the only person on the watch. The instant the young man entered the hall, Mrs. Merle advanced ‘hasti y from some shadowy niche and spoke to him hurriedly. “Imust see you alone. To-night. A matter of extreme importance. How is it to be managed?” “Hush!” Lester glanced fearfully up and down the hall, an nap gg of annoyance on his face. “Come to the little room over the library,” he said, aftef& moment’s thought. “ At ten o'clock. Riana will be no fear of interruption at that our.’ Guardedly as the words were uttered, Ozelma’s quick ears caught them all. She turned away, a strange smile on her beautiful face. knew well the apartment to which he referred. Tt projected from the main body of the house onto a balcony that extended along the whole front. 1t ad but one door, and that opened into a long, nar- row hall. There was neither closet, wardrobe nor recess, no place in which one could possibly secrete imself, Ozelna felt no dismay. Shortly before the ci- ed time she went to her i ape l own room and put on a plain dress of noiseless black. Throwing a dark shawl over her head, she opened her window, and after listening a moment, stepped out upon the bal- cony. The wind had died away—the rain was falling heavily and quietly. A light burned in the apart- ment where the interview was to be held. Ozelma stole noiselessly forward, and sunk upon her knees under the window, which stood a little way open. The room was vacant at the moment, but she had Scarcely taken her position when Lester entered. He looked pale and troubled, and walked restlessly up and down the floor, “Trouble of some sort has arisen,”’ he said aloud. “What can it be?” € was soon to know. A soft, stealthy footstep, the rustle of a woman’s dress, and Mrs, Merle camé gliding up to him. “Oh, Lester!” she uttered, and dropped her head caressingly upon his shoulder, He drew away with an impatient frown. “No nonsense.” he said, half-angrily, “It: will a do. I fancied that was understood between The woman’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘There is no one to see us, Lester, no one to re- veal that we have met. Surely a mother may be permitted to caress her own son?” Ozelma started so violently asalmost to betray herself. Son! Had she heard aright? If so, her wildest conjectures had failed to reach the appalling truth. The next words Lester spoke set doubt at rest forever, “Why did you ever reveal to me the truth?” he asked, bitterly. “I was happy in the belief that Douglas Thornton was my father—that blue blood flowed in my veins—that I had Gescended from a long line of illustrious ancestors, You need not have dispelled the Yllusion—opened my eyes to the humiliating fact that I am an impostor, and really belong to the scum of the gutter.’ y Mrs. Merle stretched her hand toward him with a of despairing pain. OX Fou chimot understand a mother’s heart, Les- ter. Idid not think ever to tell you. It was m urpose to grow old and die with the secret hid- en in my own breast. I miscalculated my own Strength. Never to clasp you in my arms, never to feel your caresses, never to hear Ea dear lips call me mother! Anything but that! I waited for years, until you had grown to man’s estate, before making the révelation, I could not leave you to live your life wholly apart from me, and never know the mother who bore you, At first you aoubted, seof- MARRIED IN HASTE, 19 fed, almost cursed me. Butit is God’s truth, Lester, you are not a Thornton, but my son. ci us : “*Hush!” he said, half-fearfully. “I know a mother. Iam thoroughly convinced of the truth 0 your assertion. Let us speak of it no more. t “No one will hear me. We are quite alone. have been very careful. No one suspects we are even friends.” He made an impatient movement. “Enough of that, I have permitted you to be- come tke controlling influence of my destiny. At your request I have given up the one love of my life- time—poor little Drusilla—and paper myself to woo Ozelma Lorne for my wife. You seem to fanc we are certain to inherit Mrs. Severne’s millions we marry—’’ : 3 “It is the only means of legalizing your own claim to them,” Mrs. Merle interrupted. ‘Jf your true position were known, you would be turned in disgrace from these doors. As Ozelma’s husband, no matter what happens, you will always have a right to be here.” . * Would af prospects be beet the less Brossistng: if I succeeded in winning Drusilla for my wife? Mrs. Merle smiled half-scornfully, as she an- swered: : Drusilla will never marry you. I have studied the get thoroughly. Ske is ambitious, but nothing ever induce her to bestow her hand where coul her love is not already given. Ozelma might wed for wealth, position or worldly advantage; Dru- silla never.” Lester's face became a shade paler. He felt the force of her words. ; “We will not discuss this subject further,” he said hastily. ‘Tell me why you wished to see me.” “You will be startled to know, but I cannot keep you in ignorance of the truth. A terrible danger menaces fous my son. The true heir of Douglas Thornton has been under this very rovf!” Lester uttered a ante low ery. ‘““My God!’ he exclaimed, and took a step for- ward, “Tt is even so,’ Mrs. Merle went on, hurriedly. “In the very midst of our schemes this peril has overtaken us. Iam almost desperate. 1t seems as though the guiding hand of God had been at work— that He intended to confound us, and cause the | right to prevail. Mere chance could never hav brought about such a strange complication.” Lester was not listening. He had heard but a sin- le sentence. : . Is $6 — you can mean Ward Templeton?” he asked, after a pause, oe 4 “Yes. In my wildest conjectures I never dreamed he could ever cross my path again. I did not even know what had become cj*him, When a tiny, feeble infant, I stole him from the side of his dead mother, whose nurse I had been, substituting you, my own child, in his place. I gave him to a strange Re met accidentally in New York. I did not ingure name or destination—1 wished to remain igno- vance of them. por heya ei all these heen and the precautions taken, he has reapp' and under this roof, of all others, It is wonderful-—it is appalling !’’ She hid her face in her hands, and wept aloud for fear and grief. Lester, Shoe, seemed overwhelmed. Were all his schemes to come to such utter bankruptcy? Ruin and exposure stared him in the face, “Does he know?’ he hoarsely uttered. . “Not yet. But his resemblance to Douglas Thorn- ton, his dead ‘father, is striking. Tam surprised it has not been noticed and commented upon ry.) Lester had been struck by something aie Se Ward’s expression the first time he saw him, Now he realized why it was so. ; Ozelma Angered to hear no more. The rain ha@ been falling all the while. Her dress was wet through with it, and her long, black hair fell about her, dripping with moisture. Leaving her cramped bed a re
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“ handkerchief in rose-water, she bathed the Pa) position under the window, she stole cautiously along the balcony and re-entered her chamber. She trembled violently, The wet shawl slipped - from her shoulders in a tumbled heap. She walked up and down the room with fierce, rapid steps, her pene clinched, her beautiful face flushing and paling Her joy and relief were unbounded. It seemed as though Heaven had interposed in her behalf, Now she could let loose the reins of love, and revel in its delicious madness. Ward was no longer a poor secretary—a name- less adventurer. Her heart had been wiser than her intellect. It had recognized the true heir of the oe eg at sight, and bowed in allegiance before im. But what was she to do? The first impulse was to go instantly to Mrs. Severne’s room, and tell her of the startling dis- covery, But she resisted it. The old woman would certainly use her influence to bring about a recon- ciliation between Drusilla and Ward—her own hopes would be blasted forever. Then she thought of communicating with the oung man himself. He would certain], feel grate- ful to the person who first brought to him such wel- come intelligence, He was interested in her already —and gratitude is akin to love. Finally, as she grew calmer, the resolution came to wait for further developments and possess her soul with patience. “Tecan endure a little delay,’’ she told herself, **now that Ward is so nearly won.” CHAPTER XIV. WILL-MAKING. : Tur following morning, as she stepped into the corridor after having passed a sleepless night, Ozelma was confronted by Peters, Mrs. Severne’s maid. The woman looked grave and troubled, “My lady has not risen yet,” she said. ‘‘She —— ill and feverish, I wish you would go to her, please. Ozelma had. oaly to cross the corridor and the small ante-room beyond. Mrs. Severne’s spacious chamber had a window looking to the east: the risen sun was struggling through. broken rifts of -cloud, and dropping its golden kisses upon the. fair, dripping earth. Some of its glory and radiance stole like a benediction into the beautiful room. Ozelma started as she saw the white, convulsed face of old Margaret. It did not seem possible a few hours of illness had wrought such havoc. Her eyes were sunken, her lips bloodless, she was weak as a child, and a strange gray pallor had settled over her wrinkled features. + “T did not expect to find you like this, aunt Severne. Has the doctor been summoned?’’ “Doctor?” echoed the old woman, sharply. “Don’t you dare bring one here. What doI ely of a doctor?” “You. are very ill.” _ “Nonsense. You can’t frighten me. Itis only a slight giddiness. I shall be all right in a few hours. A Aoctor would be sure to make me ill.” ‘May I remain to nurse you?” The sunken eyes studied her beautiful face atten- tively a moment. “Tf you wish,’ was the ungracious answer, ‘‘ But it is unnecessary. I shall get along quite as well without you,” Ozelma drew a chair to the bedside. Dipping her ot brow of the sufferer. Scarcely a word was spoken, The girl seemed profoundly buried in her own thoughts, and Mrs. Severne lay perfectly quiet, only unclosing her eyes now and then. It wasa word or two of delirium that first frighten- ed Ozelma., Old Margaret might dié! She stood up trembling;-utterly overwhelmed by the thought. ** Aunt Severne, have you made your will?” she asked, suddenly. MARRIED IN HAST#. The sick woman looked at her with a cunning leer. “Of course you would like to know. You wonder what is to become of my riches when I am done with them. But it is not best to alarm oneself, I shall not die this time. I shall live long enough to make a dozen wills, and revoke them all.” ‘** Life is uncertain.” “Tell me something new, or hold your tongue,” was the sharp retort. ‘I shall not give my money away while I want it myself.” Ozelma made no response. Resuming her seat, she continued to bathe the old woman’s brow and temples, But she was inwardly trembling. The gray look that had settled upon the harsh features filled her with foreboding terror. That expression Mg came to one stricken by death, she had been old, ‘*She must not die,” Ozelma said to herself. ‘“Her worldly affairs have not been set in order, I know no wil! has been made since I came to Windy- mere. Her millions might go to strangers were she to die without a new one.” It was impossible to control her quivering nerves. She was terribly dismayed by the thought of the danger that menaced. She was tempted to disclose at once the startling discovery she had made, “It would rouse her to the necessity for action to learn that she is being imposed upon, and Ward, not Lester, is the true Thornton.” Poor Ozelma! Her heart wrung by conflicting emotions, she longed to make the revelation, but dared not, ; ; What if Mrs, Severne should send for Ward, call Drusilla in, and insist upon an immediate marriage in her presence? She was just capricious enough to do it. ‘*No,”’ she told herself, ‘‘I will keep the secret a little longer.” Old Margaret was watching her keenly from under her drooping lashes. As there was no response she continued: “You have played a part from the first, Ozelma Lorne, You made quite a sensational entree upon the scene. But I understood it. You lied to ma about that maize-colored brocade—Judith’s dress-— you had on, You claimed to have found it amon your belongings. Bah! It was stolen from th
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MARRIED IN HASTE. ea - house! I saw it in one of the attic wardrobes only two weeks before!” Ozelma grew deadly pale. And so the old woman knew even this. She scarcely breathed for a few moments, “There is a traitor in the house, some one in league with-you,” Mrs. Severne added, half raising herself in bed. “Whois it? I have tried to find out, ut in vain,” ; © limits of the girl’s endurance were reached. . When the bony, feverish attempted to grasp her own, she drew back ohnupily and fled from the room. rus: was standing beside the large oriel window near the landing. Ozelma paused, glancing at her curiously, She could not help being struc by the utter misery expressed in the pale, beautiful face, She and Drusilla had never fancied each other, but pee after hesitating an instant, she went up to “Aunt Severne is ill,” she said. Ifear. Will A ise not persuade her to see a physi- cian? She refuses to listen to me,”’ “TH?” Drusilla’s apath. “Dangerously so, looked Searcely equ a canoe time. an . Severne relented so far as to see him. Drusilla took him to her chamber. 4. here is no real danger,” he announced, “A little fever, the result ofa sudden cold. A few hours will work a complete restoration.” rs. Severne saw him alone for a few moments, and sent a message by him when he went away. Nobody knew what, until, an hour later, a lawyer and his two assistants unex etedly appeared, ask- ing to be conducted to her chamber, There w Ozelma hovered word or two that in writing—then the door Twilight was falling, the ten had been gone some hours when she ventured to e Mrs. Severne looked up f th pes the saab, 1 ed up from i , a malicio smile distorting her dene: € pillow, a malicious “You dropped a chance Suggestion, and I have followed it,” she said Smoothly. ‘My will has been drawn up, and duly signed.” = a drew a long, deep breath. But she did not Aste Peters has put it carefully away for me—locked ain sow ee cabinet, where my other papers are til Tam dead and one,”’ Ozelma : “T must. know—I will!" ’ her trembling hands, ‘I Ozelma thought, Clasping in the dark cannot take a single step CHAPTER XV. 4 BRIDGE OF GLASs. Mrs, Snyerne felt so much better in the evening she was able to sit up for an hour or more. Prompt- _ ly at ten o'clock she sent everybody from the room not even Peters was suffered to remain, “T will not be coddled,”’ she declared, r flared. ‘TI am al- most well, and can ring if anything is wanted, T 21 should not sleep a wink with any one sitting in the room,”’ ; - : Ozelma went away with the rest. But not to rest. She could not banish the will from her thoughts for amoment. Rest was out of the question while she remained ignorant as to what he had to expect. She had seen the cabinet in the tower a score of times, at least, and knew that Old Margaret slept with the key under her pillow. / BS “Why should I not examine it for myself?” she said. “Ithink it could be done. I will!’ ‘ It was long past midnight before she made a sin- le movement. The house had been quiet for hours. at last,-with quick, noiseless steps she stole across the corridor, and entered Mrs. Severne’s chamber. A lamp burned dimly Beside the bed. Its light fell upon the old woman’s face. The sunken eyés were closed, the mouth half-open, and she was breathing heavily.” “Sound asleep,” thought Ozelma. : With a quick, shuddering gesture she withdrew the bunch of keys from under the pillow. The thought came what if old Margaret should awake and miss them during her absence! It was a fear- ful risk, but she could do no less than incur it. With noiseless, unfaltering steps she made her way to the tower. It was the most ancient portion of the house—a square, ponderous affair built of gray stone, and but seldom entered. Here, at the rou of three flights of stairs, was a narrow landing where Mrs, Severne capriciously chose to keep the cabinet in Piveton 6 quaint, old-fashioned affair made of oak and bound with brass. . Selecting by instinct the key that fitted the lock, Ozelma turned it near. The first f saw was the one of which she had come ti } It lay at the top any folded—not sealed, An- other moment and she had set down the Jamp wi which she had provided herself, and was eag devouring its contents, : She was too agitated to notice the exact wording of the document. But its purport was perfectly clear to her. With the exception of a few unimpor- tant bequests, Mrs. Severne had bequeathed the. whole of her immense fortune to “the only son and heir of the late Douglas Thornton,” That is the way it read, ‘ nly son and heir of the late Douglas Thornton,” Léster was not mentioned. by name. The capricious woman had decided that he should be designated in this way. The only reference to Drusilla or Ozelma was in a paragraph, toward the close of the will, “My heir will m one or the other,” it. said, “and I wish him to take his choice, In the event that he decides to pass them both by for a stranger, one hundred thousand dollars is ly between Rrusilla and Ozelma. The words\seemed to blur before the avis that were devouring them so eagerly. Who shall say what enchanting pictures floated before the girl's mental vision? Suddenly there came a soft, rustling noise—the sound of hurried breathing, Ozelma looked with a thrill of awful terror. There, close beside her stood old sian ety a dressing-zown of quilted silk drawn about her shrunken figure, an expression of rage, fury and menace blazing in her bleared old eyes, “You!’’ she gasped, in a hoarse, suffocating voice. “Fiend! you beautiful devil! How dare you come here like this?” : i Ozelma, was never fully able to tell how it happen- ed; but the furious woman made a sudden dash upon her, then fell Borie back against the railing, It was old, nearly rotted, and gave way instant under her weight, Mrs. Severne, as she felt herse falling, made a single frantic effort to regain her footing. An expression of awful horror and en- treaty flashed for one second from her dilated & There was an unearthly shriek, the briefest. silence, then a dull thud as the body struck paved floor below, ~ to be divided equal q ee ee 4 eT ae : i
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to Drusill a 22 ; MARRIED IN HASTE. Ozelma had sufficient sense left to thrust the will into the cabinet. She dared not look at the dark, shapeless mass on the stone flagging below. The awful silence alone told her what to expect. Draw- ing her garments out of the way, she fled swiftly to her chamber and shut herself in. For a moment she stood in the center of the room, dazed, bewildered, lost. One ery escaped her lips: “My God! this is too dreadful!” By this time voices and footsteps were to be heard. The whole household had been aroused by that blood-curdling cry. The necessity for immediate action recalled Ozelma to herself. With trembling hands she loosened her rich, abundant hair, and tore off the dinner-dress of gar- net silk she had worn during the oe day, spoons it in a rumpled heap on the wardrobe oor. When one of the maids knocked at the door pres- ently, though her face was deadly pale and her eyes glittered, she was quite calm. ' “What has happened?” she asked. “ Why this commotion?” , “Oh, my poor mistress!’’ moaned the girl, with a shuddering glance over her shoulder. ’ “Ts she worse?’ Ozelma compelled herself to in- quire. : “She is dead!” Ozelma shrieked the word after her. It was a re- lief to give expression in some way to her over- wrought feelings. Following in the direetion others were taking, she soon found herself in the presence of the dead woman. Kind hands had raised the poor, bruised body and laid it upon a couch. Ozelma joined the group gathered about it, but she could not persuade her. self to look at the ghastly spectacle. Her terrifiel aze rested upop anything and everything but at, Pale, rigid, beautiful, she stood there with clasp- ed hands, her long purplish-black hair falling in confusion over the white dressing-gown she had thrown hastily about her. “It can’t be true!’ she faltered. “My dear old aunt! Some one must fetch a surgeon instantly.” One of the servants had already gone, Turning who stood trembling and tearful beside her, she said, shudderingly: ““OF course, it was an accident. how it happened.” Two theories were already being whispered about. Some thought the ill-fated woman had been walk- ing in her sleep, while others were of the opinion that she had clirabed the tower stairs for the pur- pose of securing some paper in the cabinet—pos- sibly the will so recently made—and had fainted and fallen against the railing and been precipitated to the floor below. In pt tte of this latter theory, the keys were found sticking in the lock. \ Peters stood beside the couch, rocking herself to and fro and wringing her hands distractedly. She could not forgive herself for having been comfort- ably reposing in bed while so terrible an accident had hap Pray, tell me ene |. Oh. my poor, poor mistress!" she wailed. “ Why did you send me away? This would never have occurred had you permitted me to watch beside ou.” 5 f The surgedn arrived presently, But of course nothing could be done, Tt had been a mere farce sending for him. Margaret Severne had looked her last upon the world. Ozelma was hurrying back to her room when Mrs. Merle stole up softly behind her and touched her arm. The woman’s face was pale and agi- tated, “The will?’ she uttered in a panting whisper. “Do you kuow its purport? Did Mrs. Severne tell you anything?” There was a scarcely perceptible pause, Ozelma saw the necessity of setting the woman’s mind at rest; otherwise she might make mischief. “You have nothing to fear,” she said. ‘ Every- thing is left to Douglas Thornton’s son.” 2. Mrs. Merle drew along breath of relief. At an- other time she might have thought the answer pe- culiarly worded; but now she failed to notice any strangeness init. Of course Lester was the person intended. Having gained the refuge of her own apartment, Ozelma threw herself face downward upon the couch. At last, at last, she was alone and had time to think—to face the shock and horror of the situa- tion. Tn one sense it was an hour of triumph. The dead woman’s millions would be Ward Tem- pleton’s—he was Douglas Thornton’s son. Love and fate had both been kind. She might win the man to whom her heart was given and not be com- pelled to give up the fortune she coveted. Then another thought came—one that curdled he blood and made her flesh creep. ; But for her, Margaret Severne would still be alive! She would never have gone to her death at that midnight hour but for Ozelma’s treachery and cupidity. “{ did not murder her in cold blood,” the girl said to herself shudderingly, ‘‘ but the sin of her aw- ful death lies at my door ail the same.” She tried to banish the thought, but in vain. Clasping both hands before her eyes, she buried her facein the pillows. It was of no use. That livid, horrified face as she last beheld it, sinking into the gulf of impenetrable blackness that made the Jower age of the tower seem so horrible, rose constant- y before her mental vision. ‘-T shall be haunted by it as long as I live,’’ she cried despairingly. It was a relief to see the gray light of early dawn steal slowly into the chamber, and hear the first twitter of the birds outside. Ozelma scarcely knew how the day passed. Like one in a dream she heard the undertaker’s assist- ants come and go; the solemn, subdued hurrying to and fro that sounds so strangely in the house where death has entered, She was trying to decide u She stood upon a bridge of tain until she had won Ward band Shortly after_mid-day she rose, and wrote a few hasty words to Ward. “T must see you. What I have to say concerns yourself, and no one else must hear it, I have made a strange discovery. Will you meet meat twilight this evening, at the little hut in the fir-zgrove midwa, between Hillside and Windymere? OzeELMA LORNE.’ “That will bring him if he is able to leave the house,” she thought, as she folded and sealed the note, She dispatched it by a special messenger. The answer came in due season, It consisted of a single m a plan of action. ass—nothing was cer- ‘empleton for her hus- ine. “T will be at the appointed place.” CHAPTER XVI. : THE HUT. THE sun was sinking in a bank of purple-black clouds when Ozelma left the house. A strange, cop- per-colored light shone in the sky, a sickly yellow glare had fallen upon the emerald fields, the swell- ing hills and green, winding lanes. Nota breath of air rustied the fol'ag>, every leaf was still. Even the birds had forgotten to sing. Ozelma walked rapidly, buried. in her own thoughts. Just as she came in sight of the hut where the interview was to be held, a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. It had no other effect than to quicken her fleet steps. The hut had be n built by some laborers ink quat- ry near by, and recently abandoned, [Tt was a poor *?
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4 MARRIED IN HASTE. 23 affair, roughly flung together. The rude door stood ajar, and Ozelma entered unhesitatingly. Profound stillness reigned in the place. At first the girl fancied herself quite alone. Her brows knitted in an impatient frown as she glanced round the single room. Only a few wooden stools, a table with three legs, a small cupboard nailed against the wall, and— With a sudden cry she sprung forward. Surely She recognized the outlines of a human figure lying upon a couch of leaves in the darkest corner of the hut! Instantly she was bending over it. The hand- a face turned up to the light was very pale and ill. “My God! Ward, himself! He is dead!” A moment she stood asif paralyzed. It was a ter- rible shock. Then fancying ake detected’ some slight movement in the ghastly figure, she gazed round the room in an agony of terrer. Oh, if she had only some powerful restorative at hand! She flew to the euphoard, and wrenched open the door. A black bottle stood’ on the lower she f, She knew by the odor it had contained brandy, and a few drops still remained in the bottom, ae — ! she cried ant, , Raising the young man’s he: d, she poured liquor down his throat. It had an eae sme Py fect. He drew a long, deep breath, and opened his eyes. As they res Qn the beautiful, Juring face so near his own, he seemed. to forget himself for a moment. “Am I still at Windymere? and are you sacrificing yourself to me, like an angel of mercy?” Before she could reply, his mind cleared, and he remembered what had happened. ‘““T came here to meet you,” he said. ‘‘I was not strong enough for so long a walk. I sunk down on these leaves and fainted from exhaustion.” Ozelma looked at him remorsefully, her beautiful eyes filling with tears, “T shall never be able to forgive myself if you are made ill again through me.” “I seem to forget all pain, now that you are here beside me.” Ozelma started. The blood seemed to leap ina burning torrent through her veins. What did he mean? Was her deep, passionate love at last to find reward ?, Bending still lower, she said in an eager whisper: “Do you really care for me a little?” ‘“*You know I do.” Her superb beauty, the passion burning in her eyes, the warm touch of her fingers, her fragrant breath as it fanned his cheek, seemed to kindle a responsive ardor in his veins. : * Would God I had met you sooner!” he exclaim- ed. “I might have given you all my heart—wor- Shiped you as @ queen among women.” “T will not pretend to misunderstand you,” she Said, trembling. ‘‘ Drusilla Dreeme stands between us. You cannot forget her.” co “No,” he said, sighing heavily. ‘‘I have tried in vain, I know she is unworthy, and yet, at this very moment I love her as madly as ever.” . Ozelma lowered her long-lashed lids to hide the angry sparkle in her eyes. “Tt is sad that Drusilla should have so wrecked our life and trust,” she murmured, in soft;dulcet ones. “But there are other women in the world Ward, those who are constant and true, who would sooner die than cause you pain or gag _ “Tknow,” he sighed, and pressed the hand rest- ing in hisown. But he paused with these words. Ozelma was almost frantic. She must succeed! Everything she prized was at stake. Turning her luring eyes again upon him, she gently said: “Did you never think the surest way of driving an unworthy love from your heart is to replace it with another?” He shook his head sadly. ‘The experiment might not succeed. In that case two persons would be made miserable.” ‘you have chosen. ) “Do you love Drusilla so very much?” ,, ‘Better than my own lite. I shall love her al- ways.’ A cry broke from Ozelma’s lips. It was full of im-- potent rage, but the young man heard in it only the expression of a profound sorrow. “My poor friend,” he said, looking up at her earnestly, ‘‘I can understand how such a confession must pain you. But I must be frank and outspoken. You have my esteem, my deep regard. But my heart is given to another.’ “Your friendship is more precious to me than another man’s love,”’ Ozelma answered, faintly. Still silent! There was one last chord that might be touched, and she made the attempt. yt f “You have well said that Drusilla is unworthy,’ she breathed. ‘In all my experience T have never met with a young girl so selfish or avaricicus. She has penitent moods when her heartless conduct ap- ears to her in its true light. But these soon pass. © you know what she has done?” Ward started and trembled, but made no re- sponse. “She has betrothed herself to Lester Thornton. She would sell her own soul to be mistress of the Severne million. Wealth and position are more to — her than anything else inthe world. Aunt Severne approved the alliance, you know; they were to have been married within a month.” The falsehood fell glibly from her lips. But Ward looked up in sudden doubt and consternation. - i Are you sure?” he hoarsely said. Oh, yes. Drusilla was my informant. seemed quite elated over her good fortune.” _The young man Jay silent and thoughtful, Dru- silla’s pale, sad face, so full of heart-break and suf- fering, as she had stood at the avenue gate, rose be- fore his mental vision. Had she so soon forgotten him? She would soon be another man’s wife. Then it would be a sin to think of her so constantly. Thewa galling chains must be broken at whatever c Sho ‘*Ozelma,” he said abruptly, ‘you know all the truth, that I have but the remnant of a heart to. offer. Will you be my wife?” She leaned nearer, with a hard-drawn breath. “Do you mean it, Ward?” “Yes. I will endeavor to make you happy. LI cannot give the love that is your due, but I bea true and devoted husband.” The shadows had grown dense in the little hut. He could no longer see her face. But her hoarse, panting breathing was audible. Suddenly she gath- ered his two hands into her own, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “You have made me happy already,” she, mur- mured in low, Sage ay tones. ‘I can imagine no bliss comparable with that of becoming your wife. I need no longer even attempt to hide my heart. love you, Ward, I love you.” He made no immediate response. Her passion awed and half-frightened him. A vague fee a of en foreboding was upon him, and could not be off ““We cannot hope to be married for several years, at least,” he said at length. me with my way to make in the world, I shall resign my position - Mr. ge eo od ee eS and ie the practice of my profession. Ss no envia’ () = Veare of patient waiting may be necessary.” Oxehns. smiled to herself. Years! He little di- vined what was passing in her heart. 2 At that moment a vivid flash of lightning illu- mined the hut with the brilliancy of noonday. A deafening peal of thunder followed. A few great drops of rain pattered against the one small window, and after a moment’s cessation came pouring down in torrents as though the flood-gates of heaven had been opened. ‘ Ward raised his head with a faint exclamation of dismay. An “T am a poor man, ~ a P ut P a z
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24 “Tam very sorry,” he said. ‘I did not know that a abies hp was rising. Now you must remain in this wretched place until it is over.” Ozelma smiled eanls half-scornfully. “That will be no ardship— ou are with me.” ~ On entering the hut she noticed a lamp and matches on the deal shelf, opposite the door. She struck a light, then resumed her seat beside the rude couch on which Ward was reclining. “You have not inquired why I asked you to meet me here,” she said, ei os “No.” She noticed that his lips were pale and twitched nervously. - ‘‘ You have made a discovery that concerns myself, I think you said.” “Yes, dear Ward. Be prepared for a startling revelation. I have learned the secret of your eas eee ch j : A stifled ery broke from his parted lips; but he lay motionless, ng at her with growing wonder, as she related the strange series of events that had led to the surprising discovery. “It ig marvelous—almost incredible!’ he cried in a hoarse, deep voice. ‘‘God works in a mysterious way. He brought me here for a purpose. Lam hes Ne and truly Douglas Thornton’s son, one of Mrs. Severne’s heirs?” . “There can be no doubt of it,’’ Ozelma replied. “The proof is ample. Mrs. Merle’s confession alone would suffice to establish your rights.” She had not told him the purport of the new will. Of course itsvould not answer to Jet him know that she was acquainted with its contents. The young man arose at length, and walked rest- een ted and down the hut. The startling revela- tion inspired him with new life, and energy. Thethunder still crashed and reverberated over- - head, the vivid lightning played across his face, the rain continued to fall in torrents, but he was blind and deaf to it all. He did not even seo the flushed, beautiful face with its burning eyes and quivering lips that was ‘turned so eagerly toward him from the opposite side of the little room. ' CHAPTER XVIL f A HASTY MARRIAGE, é - Warp’s first thoughts were of Drusilla. His heart turned toward her with passionate pain and long- ing. Ofall women in the world, she was the. one he should have made his bride. “Why did she not remain true and faithful?” he E asked himself. ‘‘We might have been so happy. Heaven was paving the bat Now it is forever too late. She is bound to another and so am I.” A bitter groan broke from his lips. Ozelma start- ed ae ‘ily, and touched his arm. *“Of what are you thinking, Ward? I fancied the news [brought would give unmixed joy and satis- to ctroret "he said, sinking heavil, ve me,” he said, sinki eavily upon one of the rude stools. ‘‘I do not wish to seem ungrate- ful, But—”’ Pausing baa wed he buried his face in his hands. Ozelma grew deadly pale as she looked at. him, Sinking suddenly at his feet, she clung to his lan- d hands. “You frighten me!” she cried. give you up, Ward. This revelation must make no ifference in our relations to each other.” Do not fear—it never shall.” ; His thoughts, even as he spoke, were with Drusilla! His changed prospects afforded him very little satis- faction after all. As often happens with regard to the blessings of this world, his good fortune had | come too late. _ The hours wore on, and the tempest continued to rage unabated. A mist lay over the young man’s thoughts; he sat motionless as the night waned, half- stupefied and bewildered. "hersat length he aroused himself, and looked at his watch, it was long past midnight. ee “You will be compelled to remain’ here until “T can never- MARRIED IN HASTE ,' morning, Ozelma,” he said, in a troubled tone. “Tt would be unsafe to venture out into the storm and darkness.” : She did not reply. She had withdrawn ‘to the other end of the hut, and sat with her face averted? After gazing at her a moment, Ward dropped. his head with a heavy sigh. The faint gray dawn, when at length it stole feebly into the hut through broken rifts of cloud, found them still sitting in the same position. For hours no word had passed between them—they had scarce- ly stirred, The rain was over. The sun as it rolled above the eastern hills, looked down upon a landscape ** drowned in tears.” Ward rose, stiff and bewildered. The long, lon night seemed like a frightful dream. He stood at the door of the hut, looking out upon the wet, -sod- den ground where the rain-drops glistened like dia- monds, wondering if it could indeed be a reality. A soft, warm hand stole into his own. Ozelma was standing close beside him, an expression of piteous entreaty in her beautiful eyes. ; “What a fair, sweet world,” she said, gently. “It, never looked to me half so lovely.” Ward breathed a sigh. It was her new-found | happiness that made it seem so beautiful. “T will go for a carriage,” he said, at length, “and take you home to Windymere:” Greatly to his surprise and distress, she leaned her head agalnst his shoulder, and burst into tears. ‘““Not there,” she sobbed. ‘*Oh, Ward, how can Tever gO back to my friends again? What shall I say to them when they ask, as they are sure to do, where I have been?” And she wept more unrestrainedly than before. His handsome face flushed. A pure, honorable man, he had never thought of the situation in any other light than its unpleasantness. But Ozelma’s words recalled him to a realizing sense of what the eensorious world was likely to say. The rich color faded suddenly, leaving him paler than before. He took a moment for reflection; then his decision was made. é “You shall be my wife now—this — day,” he said, in a trembling voice. ‘‘No one shail be given the opportunity to gees evil of you.” Her face was still hidden, be did not see the gleam of triumph that sparkled in her eyes. The contem- plated marriage seemed more and more repugnant to him. But Ozelma must not suffer. Even the sore men have been couquered by woman's wiles. A few moments later a wagon came rattling along the road. A ‘plain farmer on his way to market. .| Ward hailed him, and easily succeeded in gaining conveyance for himself and companion to the near- est town. A : It was a strange bridal journey—one: that neither ever forgot. A license and ring wera procured; and two hours later the solemn words were spoken that bound these two together for time and eternity. Oezlma could not conceal her joy and exultation. Tt sparkled in her velvety eyes, shone in, her beauti- ful ace. Ward felt his pulses throb as lie gazed at er. 7 " “You are very lovely,” he said. ‘I shall be proud of ite beautiful wife.’ “You will love her too, after a little, even as she loves you,” Ozelma whispered, touching her fragrant lips to his forehead. His eyes fell, and he thought of Drusilla. Could he ever forget her? A hired carriage was procured, and they set out upon the return journey. Ozelma had become silent and thoughtful. She was maturing her plans. The goal of her ambition was reached—she had won wealth, position, the man she loved—but it was still necessary to proceed with extreme caution, Suddenly wreathing her soft arms caressingly about his neck, she said.
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som . ee ; MARRIED IN HASTR, a eae “Thave a favor to ask, Ward. It will be better, iter all, for me to return to Windymere alone.. I can offer some explanation that will account for my absence. Are you willing, for my sake, to keep our Secret for a few days?” “You really wish it?” he said in a tone of deep surprise. “Yes. It would seem so dreadful to go back while aunt Severne lies in the house a corpse, and tell everybody I am a new-made bride.” A real shudder shook her frame. ‘No, let us wait until after the funeral before making our marriage pub- lic. You do not mind?” ** Not if you wish to keep the seeret.” She smiled gratefully into his face. “I will leave you at Hillside, and continue the jonsaey alone. You are to say nothing to Mr. astings or any one of the change in your pros- pects. When the right moment arrives to declare the truth, I will send for you.” % She had her wish in this matteras in all things else. Ward felt in no haste to claim his newly-made bride. The burden of heaviness still clung about his heart, and with a few hurried words of farewell they parted. The first person Ozelma met on entering the house was -Mrs. Maris: The housekeeper was giving in- structions to one of the maids, but she instantly | came forward, her pale face flushed with distrust | and suspicion. “You remained away all night,” she said sharply. “Where were you?” “With a friend,” giving her head a haughty toss. “Friend?” scornfully repeating the word. “‘ How many friends have you made in this neighborhood during your brief sojourn here, { would like to ask?"*’ As there was no response, the woman added in a lower tone: “*T give you fair warning. You must have no se- erets from me, Do not be led away by any folly. I have been a good friend to you, but I should make arelentless enemy.” Ozelma only smiled disdainfully, and passed on. She comprehended the woman’s meaning perfectly. The words were intended as a warning that she might yet step between her and the fortune she cov- ete “Fool!” Ozelma said toherself. “It iscyyou who must humble yourself tome, Atlast Il am able to defy your power.” : Lester stood in the reception-room, a lowering frown on his brow, an angry shadow in his eyes. He had learned from his mother’s lips, the purport of Mrs. Severne’s will; and feeling secure in his false position as Douglas Thornton’s supposed son, had that morning suddenly decided to act upon his own responsibility. 3 e Severne millions would be his—why ie himself with a bride he did not-luve? — Drusilla’s girlish, innocent beauty had won all his heart. Of course when he took his position as heir to an im- mense fortune she would be only too glad to marry Meeting her accidentally a few moments before, he had declared his passion in a few burning words. Drusilla did not wait to hear him through, but broke from him with a ery of fear and aversion. “Do not speak to me like this,” she cried. “I will not listen.” “One moment,” he entreated, following her. “You do not realize what a golden opportunity you are throwing away. Letme tell you asecret. Mrs. Severne’s millions will be mine. As my wife you would be mistress of Windymere, and share the im- mense fortune she has left.” She turned upon him like lightning, her beautiful eyes blazing. “Do you think to buy my love? If so, you have mistaken me. Nothing co’ come your wife.” : _ And she had fled from him in evident terror. _ He was still smarting under the pain and fury con- ie d ever induce me to be- | brings you here?” 25 — sequent upon his rejection when Ozelma had entered the reception-room. After a moment’s hesitation, ~ a toward her, his pale lips working convul- sively. : bei - She was like a queen. No man ever claimed 4 more beautiful bride. She would make a royal mis- tress for Windymere. Drusilla should never know how her scorn had hurt bim. He would yield to his mother’s wishes, and make Ozelma his wife. Dru-' silla would be fitly punished when’she beheld them rolling in: wealth in which she could have no share. ~ Clasping Ozelma’s hand, he said abruptly: : “T think we understand each other. It is down in the books that you and I should unite our fortunes. You came here to win the heir of Windymere, and I am ready to fall at your feet. When shallit be?’ Drawing her hand quickly from his clasp, she transfixed him with her glance of bangs scorn, “ Never, Lester Thornton. Do not delude yourself with any false hopes. I have my own plans for the future. Ishall never be your wife.” And she swept on, her superb head thrown back, her eyes flashing, leaving the disappointed man in a stupor of amazement and incredulity. : CHAPTER XVII... . A CHAPTER OF SURPRISES. . THREE days later, all that was mortal of poor Mar- gare Severne was consigned to the cold silence of he tomb. : Jt was a stately funeral, largely attended. No one thought strange of seeing the carriage from Hill- side folowing closely after the mourners in the pro- cession. Mr. Hastings had been the most intimate friend of the deceased, and it was natural that he should wish to go to the grave. gress His handsome young secretary was with him, but of course the latter went simply for com: vn, Comms After the mourners had returned tot ouse, & series of surprises occurred. The first was when Mrs. Merle, in her plain black dress and emcee cap, unexpectedly encountered a portly, florid-look- ing man of sixty in one of the lower halls. _ - ‘ As she recognized him, a sharp ery of surprise ani fear broke from her lips, and she raised her hands as if to ward off a blow. : “Dr. Lynde!”’ ‘ The man bowed and smiled. He had been medical ., attendant to the Thorntons for many years; .in fact it was at their house Mrs. Merle had met him while she was acting as Mrs. Thornton’s nurse more | twenty years before. eg ey “Tt is a long while since we have me good doctor, “ but I remember you perfectly, ‘“*What brings you here at the present time?” the — startled woman demanded. : ESya “Thad some acquaintance with Mrs. Severne, and wished to pay respect to her memory.” : The answer sounded like an excuse. Mrs. Merle’s heart beat with heavy throbs. Before she could compose herself to question him further, Dr, Lynde had passed on, : : ‘ But she felt a frightened. It was very strange that he should be there, A sentiment of cme evil weighed heavily aon . She would have felt even more terrified had she been aware that Ozelma had been instrumental in’ bringing him to Windymere. _ ; = aay 5B The would-be heir was the next —— to be pro- foundly startled. Lester had just bi airs to readjust his mourning attire, and was on the library where the will of the deceased was to be _ “ read, when be.came face to face with Ward Tem- — leton. “ He fell back. his features taking on anentils 2D . There certainly was something ominous in ap- ance of the true heir at such a time sade e tried in vain to conceal the terror that. cd his blood, and well-nigh stopped the beating of his _ h NERS Sey “Pell me wha eart. , ““You?”’ he sharply exclaimed, ie t," said the iswayto .
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26 MARRIED Ward met his angry gaze unshrinkingly. “*T was invited to be present at the reading of the will,” he replied. It was true, Ozelma had sent for him, and given instructions how he was to proceed. Lester trembled with vague apprehension. “There must be some mistake. Aunt Severne was almost a stranger to you. What possible interest can you have in her will?” ‘“ “That remains to be seen.” Resolved to avoid all discussion with the impostor Ward turned hastily aside, and entered one of the small reception-rooms near at hand. As he closed the door and shut himself in, a faint gasping sound, _that was neither sigh nor moan but a blending of both, startled him, and he looked around. Drusilla was standing there m the middle of the room, her rigid hands clasped and extended toward him, her white, quivering face full of unutterable anguish, ‘ or a moment he could not move or speak, but stood gazing at her like one fascinated, thrills of delicious pain tingling through every nerve. * Listen to me a moment, Ward.” she cried, taking a single step forward. * You have been unjust— cruelly pra oe he me! I must make one last effort to set you right.” -The lovely face, the sad, passionate voice, moved him as none other could have done. He longed to open his arms and take her to his heart. “You know what my life was before coming here ~how barren and dreary. Surely you might show pity, forbearance. -I freely acknowledge my own weakness and the strength of the temptation that assailed me, Iwas so tired of poverty and priva- tion! But my heart has never wandered from its allegiance to you—never for one moment.” He still stood silent and motionless. All power of speech was gone from him. “Have you nothing to say to me, Ward—not one word?” she cried, tears raining from her lovely eyes. “Ttis very hard. I would have forgiven you a far prima wrong than that of which I have been guilty.” — His heart smote him ashe gazed. How haggard, pallid and changed she looked, like one who has passed through the deep valley of humiliation. Only the shadow of her fair, sweet loveliness remained. Had she indeed suffered so much? Perhaps he hud been too hard and unrelenting. ’ Kio her clasped hands, she went on, passion- ately: a “Phe riches and honors of this world no longer have the least temptation for me. I hate them. _ Better the old life of toil and self-denial, for that Soha a and happiness. I might be mistress of indymere; but—I never shall.” He took a step near, and spoke at last. “You might be mistress of Windymere?”’ he slowly repeated. * A crimson flush suffused her pale face. “Yes, Lester Thornton is to be the heir. He has asked me to marry him; but I—I—have refused n. Ward uttered a of astonishment, An uncom- ‘fortable wep mere at Ozelma had deceived him flashed for the first time upon his mind. “T faneied the matter was fully settled,’ he faltered; ‘“‘that the marriage would speedily follow.” “Tt was a mistake,” she replied. ‘I never had the least intention of becoming Lester’s wife. I do not love him, and I will never marry for money or position.” There was no time to say more. At this moment the lawyer who had drawn up the will came to the door in search of Drusilla. All was in readiness, he briefly announced, and the three entered the library together. Mrs. Merle, Lester and Ozelma were already there. So also werethe family servants. Doctor Lynde sat at the lower end of the apartment, slightly apart ae 4 IN HASTE, from the rest, with a woman closely vailed, evi- dently a stranger, - There was a perceptible commotion when Ward and Drusilla entered together. Lester clinched his hands, Ozelma looked up with an angry flash in her eyes, and Mrs. Merle after one startled glance, leaned back in her chair like one whose strength .was spent The lawyer adjusted his spectacles, cleared his threat, and began to read, The purport of the document is already known. Mrs. Severne had left the bulk of her immense woridly possessions to the “ only son and heir of the late Douglas Thornton,” as all those interested were fully aware before listening to the reading of the will. The instant the lawyer's voice died into silence, Ozelma rose, her beautiful face glowing with illy- concealed triumph. “1 call the attention of those present to the pecu- liar wording of the will,” she said,in a clear, deep voice. “ ‘Only son and heir of the late Douglas Thornton.’ He sits yonder,” pointing to Ward. ‘A: cruel pombe’. has been practiced. The true heir of all this wealth is the young man you have known as Ward Templeton.” — - A moment’s dead silence ensued. Every tongue was tied. Mrs. Merle rose up, trembling, but fell back again. She seemed cowed, utterly overwhelmed with surprise and terror. Had allher schemes come to naught at the very moment of success? Lester was the first to recover the power of speech, He leaned forward, great drops of perspiration starting upon his brow. “Tt is false!” he eried. ‘ Ozelma loves this man, and bas trumped up the incredible story to serve her own purpose. She is doubly a traitor; but she shall not deprive me of my birthright.” Ozelma repeated the word with a mocking sneer. “Your birthright? What is it save shame and poverty? Ask the cowering woman who sits beside you. She is your mother. It was she who stole uglas Thornton’s son, when a helpless infant, and wickedly ew her own child in his place.” *‘Ttis false!’ Lester cried again. “T can prove my assertion,’’ Ozelma calmly said. ‘But it scarcely needs proof. Mrs. Merle’s guilty looks, and_your own evident terror, are sufficient evidence. Douglas Thornton and his wife are dead, and unable to corroborate my story. But Dr. Lynde is here. He'attended Mrs. Thornton when Ward was born. He can give his’ opinion in regard tothe matter.” : The physician rose at once and said: “T half suspected, at the time, that some fraud was being practiced. But there was no certainty, and I dared not speak. The substitution must have been made when the child was a week or ten days old. Mrs. Merle kept the rooms darkened. I remem.-. ber, and allowed no one to enter. The child was re- pat as doing well, and kept out of my sight until finally insisted upon seeing it. I was struck at once with its unfamiliar appearance. ‘“** Why, this little one looks as though it might be six weeks or two months old,’ I exclaimed, “*Tt is very large and strong,’ Mrs. Merle replied. ‘A fine, re baby.’ ‘‘Mrs. Thornton died a day or two later. I was not with her at the last, but | have brought with me Nancy Draime, a worthy woman, who was living in the house as servant at the time. She will tell you what occurred at the death-bed. ’ —s woman sitting beside him threw back her vail. ‘ ‘*My mistress was very ill from the first,” she said in a low, clear voice. ‘I saw her only once, when she was dying. At the last she called for her babe. Mrs. Merle tried to put her off, but she per- sisted, When the sleeping child was brought, she looked at it a moment, then pushed it suddenly from her. _‘*This is not my ehild,’ she cried in shrill accents, ‘What have you done with my innocent darling?’
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ew at Windymere had frightened and dismaye Thorntons were nae: eee MARRIED IN HASTE. 2 Merpe®, fied with the words upon her lips. Mrs. erle said she was raving. But I had my doubts, yen at the time. My master was away from ome, in the wilds of the West, or-I might have Spoken of them. When he returned, broken down with grief, T had half-forgotten my suspicions.” Tr. Lynde continued standing. “There is a test that ou_ht to satisfy every doubt,” he said, “The true heir had two crescent-shaped rv arks, like sears, Just above the right elbow. 1 thought them very curious, and have never forgotten their peculiar ap- pearance. They would always remain—” . \ Here they are,” Ward calmly interrupted, bar- ing his arm, <br aod bent tolook. ‘‘ The very same,” he said nstantly. “Tf further proof is needed, I might repeat a con- versation I overheard between Mrs, Merle and Les- ter,” said Ozelma. “It was that which first opened my eyes to the truth. Ward’s sudden appearance the wo- pe and the subject was freely discussed between em,’ A cold, deadly despair had settled about the lines of Mrs. Merle’s face. She got up feebly and with difficulty, “T confess everything,” she said, slowly. ‘The sinned for the sake of my son. would be pleasanter than mine had been. Mrs. Thornton’s child kept at a farm-house for some What advantage can you hope to reap in thus treacherously bringing ‘the shoulders haughtily. “Every advantage in the world, she said in a clear, ringing voice. “1am mistress of Windy mere and have won him I love. Do not imagine I have suffered all this wealth to sli through my fingers. Ward Templeton Thornton, the admitted heir, is my husband!” __A hoarse, agonizing cry rung through the house. It came from Drusilla’s lips. She started up, gaz- ey s — fixedly a moment, and fell insensible at s feet. CHAPTER XIX, AFTER THE WEDDING, THREE weeks have gone by since Mrs. Severne’s death and burial. Ward and Ozelma had quitted Windymere imme- diately, establishing themselves in the most elegant suite of apartments to be found among the palatial hotels of the great city. With unlimited wealth at command, why should they not enjoy the best of everything money can procure? The sudden change was of Ozelma’s suggesting. The — old mansion in which her crabbed rel- ative had lived and died was hateful to her. Which- ever way she turned, that yellow old face, livid with horror and entreaty, as she had beheld it for a second’s space in the dark, chill midnight, was ris- ing before her mental vision. It gibbered at her from the darkest corners, and came stalking down the long halls and echoing corridors in the ghostly twilight, - , She knew from experience what it is to be haunt- ed by an unquiet spirit, “We will po oun” she had declared. “T should die of ennui in this windy old rookery, Nothing could induce me to make it a permanent home.” Ward had yielded submissively to her wishes. He was anything but a happy man. Now that it was oe too late, he realized the folly of the hasty Step he had taken. : ; P 6 could not help seeing that his beautiful bride s ty was selfish and unprincipled. After that brief infer- view with D he had a misgiving that Ozelma had made use of falsehood and treachery to win him. No wonder he found very little happiness in the wealth and position to which he had attained, And what of Drusilla? The hapless girl had stolen away from the house a few hours subsequent to the roatiag of the will. No one knew precisely when she went, or her intended destination. Mrs. Merle and Lester were already gone, The farce in which they had borne so important a part was played out. They no longer had anything to hope or expect. After all these years of patient plotting and planning, they could only begin a new career in a different place. The afternoon sun was’ shining into the superb apartment where Ozelma sat. Its ruddy light fell upon the rich hangings, beautiful pictures and poet bric-a-brac, deepening the vivid tints of the velvet reclining chair where she lay and pg ce © ing her brilliant beauty until she looked fairly dazzling. P ; She wore a long robe of delicate gray velvet, and her wrists were banded with shining gold. Ozelma's tastes were all luxurious. Now that the opportunity to gratity them was hers, she reveled in silk, soft velvets and creamy laces, and the jewels in her casket would have purchased a prince’s ransom. Sitting thus, with the sunbeams kissing her crim- son cheek, and playing in the dusky splendor of her hair, the low, white brow was gathered in a frown, and she impatiently tapped the carpet with one slippered foot. “ Nana,” she said abruptly, addressing the French waiting-maid, ‘has my new dress been sent home from Madame Giraud’s?” ; “No, madame.” j ; “How provoking! And 1 must have it to wear to the opera to-night.” “Madame has half a dozen superb costumes —* “No matter. What is the use of money, if one is to dress like a dairy-maid? Send for the dress im- mediately.” “Yes, madame.” 5 Tha maid did so. Vor some time after she re- turned, utter silence reigned in the boudoir. Sud- denly Ozelma looked up, and spoke in her most im- perious tone. : “Nana, where is my husband?” 2 ““Lying on the couch in the dressing-room.” “Tell im to come here. I wish to speak with him.’ The girl hesitated. : “TIT am sure monsieur is not well. He look flushed and feverish, and has not been out to-day.” ‘Nonsense. Doasl bid you.” —. Nuna departed, secretly thinking her beautiful mistress most cruel and unfeeling. To do Ozelma justice, she did not believe Ward was really ill. She ad observed from the first that he shunned her society rather than courted it, and naturally resent- ed this state of affairs, “He is only shamming, in order to be rid of me,”’ she said to herselt, not too Sinan ty. “But I do not prone taking up the vole of negleeted wife.” When Ward entered, a few moments later, she add: essed him without lookmg up. “Tam going to the opera to-night. It is Madame Fostori’s benefit, Be prepared to escort me.” Ward took a step nearer, his face changing. “My dear,” he said in a tone of remonstrance, ‘it does not look well for you to go out so frequent- ly. Poor Margaret Severne has not been dead a month—” Ozelma cep een him, stamping her foot, “That horrid old woman! I shall not bu myself alive on her account. The ugly old witch! always detested her,” * That is no reason why proper respect should not be shown her memory.” : ‘| will not counterfeit what I do not feel, These opportunities for amusement and display are_too ete ee ee er
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- precious to be wasted. I must make up for all the wasted ; tance.” The young man sighed; but he made one las effort to influence her. “T do not feel equal to the exertion, Ozelma. My head aches, and I have felt strangely allday. Ifear Lam going to be ill.” “Nonsense. Do not be fanciful, or trump up ex- cuses. You will goif you really wish to please me. 1 sent for tickets early this morning.” Ward said no more. What would have been the use? He felt blind and dizzy, and his head throbbed with pain. He threw himself wearily upon the silken divan, but for some reason his thoughts dwelt more persistently than usual upon the beauti- ful, imperious woman who sat opposite. She was his wife—but what did he know of her past? It was a sealed book to him. She never alluded to it except to deplore the wasted years of her early youth. us felt curious, and a trifle un- eas ry. ““Ozelma,” he said, after.a long silence, ‘‘ we have never been confidential, as husband and wife usually are. I would like to hear you speak of your home and childhood,.and the friends you knew be- fore we met.” A cloud came over her beautiful face. “It is not a pleasant topic,” she said shortly. “I would like to forget those years of poverty and pri- vation,” “Were you so very poor?” i She laughed—a hard, mirthless laugh, scarcely pleasant to hear, ' - “At beggary’s door, I cannot endure even to - think of it. We have taken each other for better or worse—let the past life of both be counted as noth- a I positively decline to discuss my own.” ‘hus repulsed, Ward said no more at the time; am words came to him with double force after- ward. At the opera that night, Ozelma looked beautiful and stately’as a queen. Her dress was of heavy white satin, with diamonds om her neck and arms, and braided in her midnight hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled with conscious triumph. Every glass seemed directed to the box where she sat, and once or twice an audible murmur of admira- tion arose. Ward sat silent and listless, his aching head rest- ing against the wall. He was really worse, and the scene held no charm forhim, Thesensation his wife created annoyed him rather than otherwise. Did a sweet. pure, girlish face rise between him and her glowing beauty? If so he bore his trouble VG well, making no sign. ; Toward the close of the first act he became con- scious of an excited stir in the parquette below. A s * man had just entered—a tall, brawny fellow, with the form of an athlete, but the appearance of a plain farmer. His eagle giance swept the house, resting - finally upon the box where Ozelma sat. He stood up, vale and panting, an exultant ery breaking from his | ips. ‘ Feat last!’ he cried, aloud, in utter forgetfulness of his surroundings. . Ozelma saw and heard. Her beautiful face grew pallid as death, and she cowered behind the silken curtains, frembling in every limb. _. “Tam. tired—ill!” she gasped, seizing hold of her -., husband’s arm. ‘‘Take me home, Ward. At once!” - He never forgot the frightened, beautiful face as “a it looked at that moment. Eyery particle of color ; had been stricken from lip and cheek, and her eyes — into his, wild with entreaty and unnamed ear : He never knew precisely how it happened, but on “the way.out they became separated from each other. Ozelma was borne along with the jostling crowd at | that moment descending the stairs. While he stood | hesitating and bewildered, a heavv hand feli upon his shoulder. years before I came into this princely inheri- - ‘MARRIED IN HASTE. | bring him out of this. ‘Where is she—that false, beautiful devil?” hissed a voice in his ear. aah : He turned—it was the strange man who had watched them from below. Ward’s thoughts were in a mist. “Tt must be a case Of mistaken identity,” he gasped. ‘ You surely do not know Ozelma?”’ “i “Know her?” echoed the other with an oath. “The heartless coquette! She thought to cast me aside—be rid of me forever, But I have found her again, and there shall be a bitter reckoning.” i ae oad festane he had darted on again, and was: ost to sight. PRE Ward followed, sick, dizzy, faint, exhausted. The exciting scene had made him very ill. At last he was in the open air. Ozelma had disappeared, He stood there for some moments, watching and wait- — ing. In vain. A gay, bustling crowd thronged the entrance, and he caught another Phage ape of the stranger’s powerful form, but his wife was nowhere to be seen, os é ee he called a carriage, and drove back to the otel. CHAPTER XX. BITTER FRUIT. OzetMsA was there, in the midst of her tumbled finery, sating, laces and, velvets littering the floor. The maid, Nana, pale with dismay, was rapidly gathering them into the open boxes that stood in the luxurious boudoir. ‘Ozelma hurried forwa bine! an eager ery of relief when she saw her hus- and, 2. “T was half-wild with impatience. You seeme! anagein coming. Ward, {am tired of New York. Let us go away—at once. Anywhere—it does not matter, I can be ready in an hour's time.” She clung to him trembling, lifting her eyes in pit- eous entreaty, Where now was the brilliant, debon- air beauty that had half turned his head? ey cowed, haggard, terrified woman seemed like ah- other person. . “Who was that man,” he sternly demanded, ‘that you should flee from him in such haste?” ‘An enemy,” she answered with a nervous shud- der. ‘Such’a terrible person! Iam afraid of him, Ward. He swore he would kill me. He will do it ~~ = For God's sake take me away before it is to te,” ae am here to protect you. He dare not harm my wile, A sob of unutterable terror escaped her lips. “You do not know him! He is bad, wicked, des- erate. He would hesitate at nothing. 1 must go. t is the only way. Ward, if you love me, do not put so much as a straw in the way.” He said no more. It was not the time to ask for explanations. Her terror was real—nothing re- mained but to give way to it. He sunk into-one of the velvet chairs, cold, and burning at the same moment. All at once he ex- perienced a peculiar sensation as though he was dying. The blinding gaslight, the flickering jewels, the sheen of silks and Ozelma’s pallid, ghastly figure still in the snowy-satin costume she worn at the opera, blended confusedly as in a mist. Hamad a startled cry broke from the lips of the - maid: “Mon Dieu! Monsiewr!” A casket of rubies dropped with a crash from Ozelma’s trembling fingers. Ward had fallen back, livid and still, One glance, and the miserable woman flung herself shrieking before him. ces ‘*My God! He is dead! Bring a physician. Quick! Do not lose an instant.” The physician was soon in the room. He looked very grave as he bent over his motionless patient and examined him critically. “Help my husband,” Ozelma pleaded, as she . cood trembling and cowering beside him. “It is a case of life ordeath, He must not be ill, For God’ssake ‘
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ae MARRIED When Ward opened his eyes, presently, she clasp- | sed her arms passlonately about his aang and held him fast fora moment, - a> Do not give way,” she said in an agonizing whisper. ‘‘We are lost if you do. A terrible dan- ser menacesus. We must fly—to-night. For God’s ; € rouse yourself.” She felt “herself grasped from behind, and the doct r drew her roughly away. ‘Hush, madam. ou must be very careful. Shur husband does not understand oné word you _ Itwas quite true. He was looking up at her—a ‘ild, wandering gaze in which could seen no Sign of recognition, He spoke, but his words were ‘only the meaningless babblings of delirium. ‘ : “Forgive me, Drusilla. I was cruel and unrelent- « ingy I judged you too harshly. But I have been ® punished.” - ~ .. Ozelma’s face blanched to a still more ghastly pal- lor. She stood a moment with both hands pressed. hard against her temples, like one whose wits aro _, Bone. “When she spoke it was in a strange, husky voice, wholly unlike her own. ‘This is too dreadful! I dare not stay—but oh, oo can oe ed him?” - : en she began nervous’ athering up the laces and arte Ever and hon a pitti etn: pors from _ herlips. She had sinned, but retribution was coming e to her swift and sure. ddenly the physician drew her toward the couch where Ward was now lying. The sick man’s face a was strangely changed. The pallor had gone—it was darkly flushed, and convulsed with pain. The warm blood seemed to freeze in Ozelma’s veins as ste looked at him. “1 am frightened,” she gasped. ‘Tell me the worst What is it?” “Your husband has been exposed to infection. will be dangerously ill, It is a malignant fever.” he woman hid her face for a moment, There was a brief mental di logy She loved Ward with all the ardor of which her selfish nature was cap- _ able. He was ill—perhaps dying—and she must y from his side like a hunted criminal. “It is to save my own life!” she cried in anguish, @He would forgive me if he knew.” “ Then she caught hold of the shrinking maid, who had turned to fly. : “Nana, I leave him in your care. For God’s sake, be true and faithful! Bring him out of this, and you shall be loaded with riches and benefits,” “Remain?” shrieked the frightened maid. “To take the fever? Madame must be beside herself, There is not gold enough in this cold, barbarous America to bribe me. I shall go with madame.” There was no help forit. She dared not linger. The cold apathy of_utter despair crept over the miserable woman Without another word she suf- fered Nana—now aroused to the exigencies of the situation—to fasten her wraps about her, and draw her out into the calm, starlit night. A carriage was found, and they drove rapidly to the nearest railway station. Ozelma had formed no plans—her one only thought was to escape as quickly as possible from the place that held ‘her re- lentless enemy. . ; ) A train was just being made up when they reach- ed their destination, Ozelma hurried breathlessly along the crowded platform, clinging to the arm of -her maid, Suddenly she paused, wildly flinging up _ her arms. : ; : “Too late! He has followed me, There he is! ‘Mercy! Oh, Nana, he will kill me.’ The next instant, a tall, brawny figure strugeled toward them. Nana caught a glimpse of a livid face and two burning eyes. A few husky words were hissed close to her ear. e “Ozelma, I warned you not fo prove false to‘me. ‘ me iced claim you living, but you shall be mine in | his, There was a loud, sharp report, followed instantly | IN HASTE. q 29 by another.. When the smoke cleared, and the* paralyzed crowd recovered from their momentarY consternation, they were found lying side by side— the beautiful false woman in her gleaming satin robe, all stained and gory with her heart’s blood,, and the handsome stranger who had loved her not wisely, but too well. ~ Both dead! The facts of their history may be briefly told. Ozelma had met Ralph Granger in the quiet country town where she was teaching school. He was a fierce, headstrong, passionate man, but Ozelma had won his heart, betrothed herself to him, and the wedding-day been set. 2 : . While in a neighboring town, purchasing her trousseau, she had fallen in with Mrs. Merle. en the latter learned that the beautiful girl was Judith” _ Severne’s daughter, the two had laid between them the plot that was afterward carried out—though toa different result—than the ambitious woman had ex- pected or desired. : . Ozelma never returned to her waiting lover, but suddenly disappeared, leaving no clew by which she could be traced. Ralph Granger gave himself up to the fell pee of revenge. He sought his faithless love with all the dogged persistency of a sleuth-hound, and af last, at the very beginning of Ozelma’s triumphant career, they had met! P— 7 CHAPTER XXI. AFTER MANY DAYS. Werks afterward, when Ward’s fever had spent . its force, he awoke to consciousness in a long, nar- row room, white and sweet, and shining with clean- liness, though a score of cot-beds stoo against the whitewashed wall in a line with his own. His first feeling was one of extreme fas He could not even lift his hand to his head? it required too great an effort even to breathe, He lay mo- tionless, with his eyes shut, simply because it re- quired too great an effort to keep them open. Z Suddenly some one approached the bed and stoop- ed over it. He felt the presence without seeing who itwas, A lowsigh stirred the air, and a tender, trembling kiss was pressed upon his lips. f : Even then he did not look up. A dreamy sense of contentment and peace was upon him. Protracte illness had rendered his thoughts sluggish; he would not stir lest the subtle charm be broken. * Presently a heavier step sounded near, and he heard a cheery voice—evidently the doctor's. ‘How do yor find your patient this morning?” * Better, think, He has slept quietly 6 whole night, and I am sure the fever has abated.’” - Did he dream—or was it Drusilla’s voice? The. soft, low tones thrilled him through and through. ** Should he live, he will owe his recovery to you, Miss Dreeme,” said the doctor. ‘t Never had patient a more devoted nurse. When he was brought here, IT set his down as a hopeless case.” ogre ‘‘ He has no friends,” said Drusilla in a low voice. — ‘*He was like—like—a brother tome once. I felt ‘— like doing what I could for him.” “You have scarcely eaten or slept. There would be few fatal cases if all the attendants were like you.’ The doctor passed on. Then the sick man seemed to lose himself for a while. The next thing - and a tremulous voice w ‘If it be thy will, spare him, good Lord.”’ , This time Ward opened his eyes, and made a futile attempt to raise hisarms. __ “Drusilla!’’ he faintly uttered. : She was startled, and looked ready to faint. But, after a moment she recovered herself. : “J am glad you are so much better,” she said hastily. ‘You have been very ill, Do not talk, please. It will hurt you, Try to sleep.” pered: he re- | membered those fragrant ss were again renee is Pe Sal
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39 “ . rat t See el I shall go away He looked at her with a long, wondering gaze that was oars more a Nae every moment, i se ee tg your hand,” he said suddenly. a bd y “Then I shall know for a certainty you are here. Now it seems like a dream.” She laidit in his Evenin his weakness he could feel that tt trembled. ‘Now I shall be able to sleep,”’ he said. And he did. Drusilla watched him, grateful tears falling down her pale cheeks. He was thin, worn, haggard. the shadow of his former self; but for the first time her heart throbbed rapidly with hope. After a long interval. she attempted to withdraw her hand from his clasp. He seemed to know in- stantly, and starting, looked up at her. ; ‘*You must be tired, Drusilla,’ he said, releasing her. ‘‘Promise you will not go away, and I shall be content,” She hesitated. ‘‘Promise,” he repeated, more earnestly. ‘et will not go to-day.” ; ant. ed smile broke over his face—he was like a little child. ‘“ You are very kind,” he murmured. So he passed from waking to sleeping, and sleep- ing to waking again. The day faded. With every waning hour he seemed to gather strength. The next morning, as Drusilla and the doctor both stood beside the couch Ward heard the former say in a subdued whisper: Date “You think he is out of danger—that he will live?” “Yese The fever has left him. It has been a hard struggle, but we’ have cheated the grave of its vic- tim this time.” Laten Drasilia t for a long time beside the couch ay sat for a long time e th h. Ward lay with his eyes wide open, watching her. He found a deep e and satisfaction in her presence. are times he attempted to speak, but she would ot listen. “You are too weak to converse. : - if you even attempt it.” tee “Then I will be silent. I wish to keep you here as 3 wr as possible.” ‘ . _ Drusilla tried to be calm, but she trembled under _his gaze. The memory of the past—the old .days : when they first learned the lesson of love—was BS strong upon her. She was thinking, too, of the fu- ture, of an ordeal that must be met at once. : The next time Ward awakened, that pale, sweet ane, face had vanished—it was the good doctor who sat AE watching beside the bed. ang had a am 1?” Ward asked, after a moment’s de- Xn the hospital. You were taken ill at one of the hotels, and brought here,’’- Mg _ “How long since?”’ ' ** Nearly a-month,”’ *‘] have been ill of an infectious disease?” os Yes.” - _ He drew a deep breath. There was a choking sen- yn in his throat. _Dreeme has been with me much of the , risking contagion formy sake?” _ “Yes.” The good doctor could contain himself ne Jap er. “That woman is an angel,” he cried. ne less her sweet face. She never seemed to think of hérself, or feel a moment’s weariness, I i _ never witnessed such patient, unwearied devo- | tion.” Ward’s face flushed. ‘* Where is she now?” he asked lasted, she said. She left the hospital an hour ago.” “She may take the disease, and die of it.” “She has promised. to send for me if she is ill. _ She will keep her word.” “ How did she know of my illness?” THE MARRIED IN HASTE. eS “Gone. She could only remain while the danger | * Read a raph in one of th eanetee paragrap e daily papers, I Ward lay silent and thoughtful, In‘a dream way he could recall everything that had transpired. His mind was a prey to conflicting emotions. a Fait ants is she—my wife?’ at length he abruptly @ sked., The doctor arose with a changed face. - “You have talked enough for the present,’ he said shortly. “T will tell you more when you are stronger.”’ The day came when Ward learned of Ozelt tragic death and all the facts connected with it. was not greatly surprised. He remembered the lot on the stranger’s face, that night at the opera. der seemed but the fitting outcome. Health and wren os slowly returned, e leaving the hospital, Ward searched ovary where tae Drusilla. A futile quest. She had vanished from his life as utterly as though their paths had never touched. He only saw her in his dreams and wak- ing thoughts. : Twelve months later, Ward was passing along one of the avenues in Washington whee a friend eerie grasped his hand. “You must come with me this evening to Mrs. Hayden’s reception, Thornton. Something unique in the way of entertainment. I have pledged nil. word to bring you.” A look of languid indifference settled upon the young man’s face. He had got over the first sur ed of finding himself constantly in demand. The eir of Mrs. Severne’s millions made acquaintances — without any effort, and found a ready entree to any circle he cared to join. ; ‘‘What is the attraction?’ he inquired. “A musical prodigy Mrs. Hayden is bringing out. Ihave forgotten the name, But she has a voice like a nightingale. You will be repaid for the tr6u- ble of going, I assure you.” ; Ward went. He had nothing else todo. It was easier than framing an.excuse to remain away. : The spacious parlors were filled to suffocation. The programme was lengthy. There were tableaux, readings from Shakespeare, and charades. Ay and | Sat sweltering in the hot-house atmosphere until the | attraction of the evening appeared—then he forgot all discomfort, and remained motionless, liké one in a dream, his eyes fixed intently upon the singer. It was Drusilla. How well he remembered that pure, sweef face, with its drooping eyes and tempt- * | ing lips! Never had he heard music half so entrane- | ing as the clear, liquid notes that filled the spacious | apartments with melody, | _ “ Hersuccess is assured,” said a voice at his elbow | as Drusilla retired in the midst of a deafening storm . | of applause, “She will make a sensation when she | goes on the stage.” , | Ward made no reply. He felt bewildered. “The surprise of finding Drusilla under such cireum- stances, developing a talent he did not know she. possessed, fairly took his breath away. - He arose, as soon as escape was possible, and made his way into one of the ante-rooms. Drusilla was there, investing herself with her Wraps. She tarned at the sound of an approaching st ep. Her lips flew _ apart in a sudden ery, and she fell against the wall. The next instant Ward’s grms were round her—he i was holding her close, tears that were no shame to his manhood falling upon her upturned face. x Why did you ran away from me, Drusilla? I have missed you so—life has been very lonely, 1 | have something to forgive—you a great deal. Is it not to be igs) between us?” | No need to record her answer. Purified by suffer- ing, she was well fitted for the happiness and pros- perity that had. fallen to her portion. END, eae i.