Waverley Library (Octavo Edition) (no. 5) (1884 06 24)

Page 1

—$——— 2. > atm me RL —~ POCKET EDITION. 777 eee eee eerie ts cris SSN SSS us. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N, ’ June 24; 1884, VoL, I $2,50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, : Price, No.5 gt. a Year, No. 98 William Street, New York. Five Centss ies # [sill ¥ J alli NIN) “ BEFORE HIGH HEAVEN I SWEAR You Ss WILL SHE MARRY Him? Or, THE MASKED BRIDE. « BY MRS. MARY REED CROWELL. CHAPTER TI. THE FIRST TOKEN OF THE STORM, TH® last brilliant tints of an autumn sunset were streaming brightly over the lawn at Eden- wilde, lighting up with richly-warm glories the HALL NEVER STAND AT THE ALTAR AS BERTRAND HAIGHTE’S WIFE!” spacious mansion, whose many windows caught the sunlight, reflecting it again in a blaze of molten goldenness. Far off, to the west, the Hudson river was sweeping by, a veritable belt of flame, under that orange sky; eastward, skirting the rear of Edenwilde, were the solemn Highlands, ecrown- ed with their glowing, frost-touched jewels. Before the front piazza, all white pillared and floored, and from whence Crystel roscoe was watching the lights and the shadows as they flickered and swayed on the close-cut, velvety

Page 2

2 ———. = far-spreading trees, and low, bushy shrubs, with here and there a gleaming marble Ceres or Diana, and a dainty Nivbe, all a-sprinkled from the oy of the shelled fountain, that tinkled and showered over the bright green mosses and ink-lipped sea-sbells, _ Niobe, all a-sprinkled from: the spray of the shelled, fountain, that tinkled and hc amare over the bright green mosses and pink-lip sea-shells, It was a vast, glorious inheritance, this that belonged to the proud, wealthy Roscoes_for many a past generation, and fair Crystel Ros- coe, while gazing upon the beauties of the old ancestral home, felt her heart beat anew, as she remembered was a Roscoe, And a fit representative she was; with her aristocratic beauty of face and form, no less than of mind and heart, As she sat thus, her white dress lying in thick, graceful negligence around her, and a scarlet silken shawl thrown over one shoulder, her beautiful dark-brown cyes restingin admiration on the fair landscape, you would have stopped to gaze again at the satin-brown hair, without ripple or wave to’mar its ivory smoothness; at the earnest, honest, withal haughty eyes, that held the true Roscoe self-importance. She was fair, and noble, and brave, and true, and all this nobility she had promised to Ber- trand Haighte, whose Tower walls rose grim and gray, just over the sunny-bosomed river. rtrand Haighte! it was he of whom she ‘was’ thinking, as she mutely caressed the be- trothal-ring on her dainty finger; dreaming of the bli days they had spent since he had won her, while the spring green was just bloom- ing; wondering if the future could hold more of joy than the past; and trying to pening if Mrs. aighte, of The Towers, would be less happy than the angels. Her sweet thoughts were bringing a scarlet bloom to her pale cheeks—Crystel was white and colorless as the Psyche over her toilet bu- reau; a clear, cold, elegant fairness, a birth- right to the Roscoes—and she started suddenly as the distinct sounds of a galloping horse’s feet came ie ae the entrance avenue from the the road. 6 thought it might be Bertrand, and she sp to her feet, the light of love’s welcoming in oe eyes. It was not Bertrand, nor was it any one Crys- tel had ever seen before; and she stood aston- - ished to see the eee riding up to the foot of the high marble flight of steps. It was a woman—or rather a girl, of nineteen or twenty, perhaps. A dark, magnificent woman, whose midnight hair hung to her waist in a succession of loose, heavy curls. . - Her eyes were large, haughty in their expres- sion, and dark as a thunder-cloud; and some- how, as Crystel stood watching thestranger dis- mount, her scarlet shawl Sung Eee oly over _ her shoulder, her slight form drawn up in sur- prise, she associated those wondrous, flashing eyes, as, for a moment, they rested full on her, with a lightning-charged storm-cloud, which, at & moment’s warning, would spread instant des- olation around. She thought that, then forgot it in her sur- | prise. uswatd, stretched the large lawn, adorned / WILL SHE MARRY HIM? Very self-possessed the stranger ascended the ate and bowed to Crystel. “This is Miss Roscoe, I think?” “‘Tam Miss Crystel. My sister is not at home.” ‘* Miss CrystelI wish tosee. I wasnot aware there was an elder child.” _ She paused and looked keenly at Crystel, who, in her most frigid tones, addressed her: “Tecan not imagine what you wish of either Hellice—Miss r myself,” _ The lady drew near her, and fixed her flash- ing eyes upon her. _ “Tam as well aware as yourself that you con- sider me an intruder; perhaps I am; perhaps you will regard me your best friend one day, strange as my introduction to you is. I came to see’ you, tant business. May I within?” She spoke with a courtly grace that denoted her refinement and education; and as she con- cluded, she handed Crystel a card. ‘It is my name,” she said, briefly. _ Crystel read the address. It was a name she had never heard before, nor was ever likely to forget, so unique and melodious was it: ‘“UNDINE DEL Ross.” “T have never heard of you, Miss Del Rose. shere surely must be a mistake. There are never visitorsat Edenwilde except invited guests or frieuds.” She was as freezing as an cc a but the ask you to invite moe trand stel flushed indignantly at the sudden eaten. asked so sharply. : “T can’t cee that it interests you, Miss Del Rose.” 5 “‘ But it does. I have come to Edenwilde to ascertain if the rumor be true; because, if it be true—” She poe fixing her penetrating eyes on Crystel’s sweet face. “* And if it be?” Miss Roscoe asked it haughtily. ‘Then my mission will be one of bitter woe- fulness to you, Miss Crystel.” A sudden throb of the heart told her this strange woman’s visit was an omen; a sickening shiver came over her, that the bright eyes op- posite to her did not fail to see, ‘“¢ Will you tell me? I must know, even if I ride to The Towers and: have it from his own lips. : RT see no reason for your eorking. Mr. Haighte. I also know of no reason why I should deny that which is an honor to me, or would be to any woman. Yes, Miss Del Rose, I am betrothed to Bertrand Haighte. I wear this ring, that he gave me; and onemonth from to-day sees me his bride.” : Crystel spoke quietly, haughtily, and then turned away, asif, all the required information being given, she deemed herself at liberty to withdraw. ¥ A deathiy ashiness overspread Undine Del . Crystel, on solemnly impor- .

Page 3

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? 3 IE ie Sci Se es EEE SS eS CE ES ER RR a TREE Pca Pn SER We PER de EO Mee ES Oe RS Rose’s dark face, as she reached forth her hands toward the pale, frightened girl. tel Co hte ta Vhoia he dated Miss Crys- | » he dare not marry you, he dare not marry any one—oh, God! forgive him that he has cast this blight over your veal life! And yet, oh, | " ™y poor Miss Crystel, thank Him you are Spared the horror of becoming his wife—oh, the wien terrible words, BERTRAND HaiGHTR’s ife As she finished speaking, she bowed her head on her nant, while Crystel stood, like a statue, g at ber. “Explain yourself !_Remember Mr. Haighto is very near and dear to me, and that whatever you say to injure him, hurts me as well. Re- member he occupies a position of influence and noble, upright gentleman. Remember I know im intimately, better than you can.” She had regained her com » and her brown eyes were oer regarding the hand- some, passionate face before her. “ Better than—” The stranger checked herself, then began, al- most Sercely: ? ee “TI tell you he dare not, he can not, he SHALL _ not make you his wife! Before high Heaven I ; swear “bay shall never stand at the altar as Ber- bee Ss piateebs wife!” uch language betrays your purpose, woman. At first I thought you a lad , for Pied language and gentle demeanor seemed to declare so; I was startled by your boldness and troubled at your words. But now, Undine Del Rose, who- ever or whatever you are, I fear you no longer. Such foolish words belong to but idiots—or jealous women!” Crystel drew her shawl more closely around her; but the stranger grew more excited at her OSS, > #C0° e ™ ‘, ‘t—I an idiot? I jealous of him! Oh, would I might speak the secret that is locked yr She struck wildly against her breast. “Tam not anxious to know your secrets. I wish to be excused now,” . rp loom bowed. e moment, I beg, while I tell you to prove me—prove me! Go tell your betrothed hus- c But tell him these’ three words— . whisper them in the See: bound by ut yourself, the man, who, though free as the air he breathes, dare ‘not niarres Roscoe, whisper to him, I and by the way he hears them jud2e for your- self, But, if the world stan and you live ou'll never see the day that you sBortrant Haighte’s wife!” She leaned over, and murmured the fatal test words in Crystel’s ear. Then, with no further ieu, rode away as she had come, Crystel watched the flying figure, and noted that it took the direction of The Towers, She sat down on the rustic settee, her heart fluttering, her thoughts wild and unsettled. . What did it all mean? Who _was this’ myste- rious “Undine Del Rose,” with her ominous news, her tragic oath? What did she know of rtrand Haighte? = | usual, a sort of scared pale. trust, and is known throughout the State for a_ ‘ Rut, despite her brave putting of the estions to herself, her heart was sinking with fright and nervous alarm; and she grew chillier than the cold evening air alone made her. So she wrapped her shawl more tightly about her, and still sat, waiting and thinking; the while those three significant words kept ringing in her ears. Bertrand was bound to no one, yet was not at liberty to marry! . : ; ; It ons strange, atleast; ne in this witch-faced, elfin-locked Undine Del Rose, if nothing more! ; . Carriage-wheels were approaching, and g tel arose to greet her sister and father on their return from the city. ““Why, Cryssie, you’re looking paler than f pratt Has any thing oc- eurred?” : General Roscoe, a fine, gray-headed, portly old gentleman, drew his youngest born to his | side. She tried to smile. ** A little lonely. Bertrand, but he did not come.” “And we just passed a -lady riding up the avenue to The Towers. A glorious face, dark and witching as an elf’s, Hellice, my dear, shall Lassist you?” : A tall, graceful woman, not unlike fs self, came up the broad naarble steps, ed with wee packages. “Oh, these tormenting bridal favors, Crystel! Papa fairly scolded me to-day at Stewarts, pa, thatis all. Lexpected while I was 7 between white plush or 0 blue velvet buttons for your robe de chambre.” Her merry laugh struck a strange chill to her sister’s heart. Already the name of bridal fa- vors sent a sickening shiver over her. “Then, there were the kids, I selected a dozen boxes, Crystel, and paps: g ees to me, did you never wear your ds uncovered after you were to be married?” Crystel tried:to laugh, but her eyes betrayed to the loving sister the fact of some griefs; and, to Crystel, ‘* Look you, Crystel, inmy eyes. 1 see that something has grieved you; you will tell me?” — And then she poured her strange story in Hellice’s ear. Hellice Roscoe was not a woman who would laugh at such a story; nor would she seek to hide any trouble she herself felt. She was straightforward, honest, brave-hearted; a wo- man to fight a difficulty rather than go around and beolly : it. ’ : So now, when C 1 sat watching and wait- ing for the words that were coming—and Hel- lice was her oracle—Hellice was se down in her sister’s eyes, with a sad, pitying ght in her own. ““Crystel, child, there must be some sort of a foundation to warrant this stranger’s asser- tions. What it may be, we must find out. Your first duty toward proving her a iraud or a truth ‘is, to canting’ ® repeat what you have told me to Bertrand. There, he is coming up the front stairs now.” oe “a ee

Page 4

” 4 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? b CHAPTER IL STRICKEN. _ He was a young man, was Bertrand Haighte, witha merry, joyous light in his eyes, and a quick, firm spring in his tread as he walked; a tall, well-built young fellow, with shoul- ders, peat head, and graceful bearing. Ashe came lightly up the flight of marble steps Crystel looked down fom her window on him with feelings that were strangers to her heart; a vague fear for their future, a distrust of the oma and withal, a yearning tenderness in er soul for him who might never be hers. _ These thoughts it was that lent the shadow to- her rare brown eyes, and her lover noted it in- stantly. oe stel, darling, what cruel elf has been i tine these ae oh on that sweet face? Can it = be exorcised by my superior power, think ou Bertrand lifted her chin, and kissed her Tipe, red lips; and she smiled up in his merry blue eyes; but it was a wanlike smile. Her lover gazed earnestly at her; then his own face became graver. “Something is the matter, Crystel. Come, tell me,” With a playful show of authority, he drew her to the sofa, and then sat down himself, hold- ing her cold little hands. “Come now, pet, and let me hear what oc- casions this cloud, be it trivial or important. I can promise my sympathy and aid.” n How noble he was when he spoke so tende~” and ae so like a strong, proud man! “Tam sure of your sympathy always, Ber- trand, dear, even as I desire you shall ever rest assured of my unchanging love for you, come what will.” Crystel trembled a little as the words left her lips, and she snatched a quick glance at her lover’s face, on which was written surprise and bewilderment. “¢Come what will’ Why, my little girl, what iscoming? Any thing to warrant your warning me beforehand?” ‘ Berbrand, I will tell you.” Crystel laid her two hands, clasped, in a dim- ed embrace, on young Haigh ’s knee; she ooked fullin his wondering, loving eyes, and then told him: ; “ Bertrand, there came a woman, or I rather should call her a young girl, dark, passionate, splendid, to Edenwilde, to-day. She gave her name as Undine Del Rose.” Crystel paused, watching him narrowly, the while, so thankful that he only seemed sur- prised, not conscious. And yet, did not the young girl say nothing would move him until she mentioned the three test words? She grew flushed with excitement as she went on, ‘(This young girl came purposely to see me, Sericante $0 warn me, dear, rae Hg who do youthink?” ; A She was looking wistfully at him. i “T never could guess, darling, unless it were ses I? Am I right?” e laughed gayly; Crystel’s face grew aver. at Bertrand, you have spoken in jest the truth that is troubling me. She did tell me you dared not, couLD not, SHOULD not ever call me your wife.” ; Crystel’s eyes began to moisten, and her lips trembled; it was a relief to see Bertrand spring from the sofa, his cheeks flushing, his eyes ! peice inanger. But, like ad weight on _ h lay the fact, she had not yet applied er test. “Tt is a disgraceful attempt to blackmail me, my bird, Crystel; but a pitiful, miserable at- tempt, as this adventuress shall prove to her sorrow. Did she say more, Crystel? No won- rd ge looked gloomy, you poor little dar- Ber heart throbbed wildly as he put his arms around her waist. Perhaps it might be for the last time; for, when she should have told him the message Undine Del Rose left, and he should, by his agitation, demonstrate his guilt, whatever it was—and guilt it must be that would raise a barrier between them—then all would be over forever. Forever! the thought of the word froze the syllables that she strove to form on her i She made a mighty effort; she would know her lover’s truth or falsity; she would throw the die that should decide her fu- ture happiness or despair. “ Betrand, she bade me say to you, ‘ FLORIAN STILL LIVES.’ ” Crystel’s heart stood still one awful second of suspense; then a cold, horrible’ calm of utter desolation settled over her, for Bertrand sprung from her side as if shot. ““Good Heavens! what demon of perdition dared whisper those accursed words into your ears? Crystel, ob, Crystel, don’t look so at me! Believe me, believe me; if means nothing to alarm youl” Sc lifted her cold hand to his hof, flushed 3 would prove gage Bertrand, why did you ever learn me to love you so?” Her piteous question came feebly to his ears. “Because I wanted you so, my darling; be- cause you shall be my wife despite this croak- ing raven, who dares shadow you with her vile evilness.” : ‘“‘ But ‘ Florian’—Bertrand, who is Florian?” Crystel’s eyes were fixed piercingly on him now; and she saw a hot flush mount to his fore- head. ‘IT can not explain; Crystel, I never dreamed you would hear of this; I never thought to have our blessedness crushed in this foul way. Crys- tel, my little betrothed bride, only listen, only trust to me, only tell me you believe in me, and not in this stranger.” He clasped her tightly in his passionate arms. “But you must unravel it; this new, awful a that has broken my heart already. on’t you tell me who this ‘ Florian’ is?” Bertrand shook his head gloomily, : “TY can not; Idare not. Crystel, there is a secret, a terrible, darkly-terrible secret that never should have come to your ears. But, my darling, I ask you to have faith in me that Iam ee A ary oa I a tis Won't you?” ut she said you should never marry me,” His face deeenen. ee é “Don’t, Bertrand—oh, don’t. She said it ll i

Page 5

* bu you, that you are the only woman who ever - heard a love-word from me! “ You said she was dark, elegant?” Crystel nodded vaguely. or several minutes Bertrand stood in deepest meditation; gradually he grew pale, and t en stern, He took Crystel’s nerveless hand in his Own, and looked down in her tearful eyes. “Undine Del Rose was right. Florian does live, and I therefore return a you your plighted troth, Crystel Roscoe, God in Heaven alone knows the agony in my heart; He alone knows the tenderness I dare not utter; and heonly will unravel this mystery that my lips have solemn- Y sworn never to reveal. If I have sinned pe a you, Crystel Roscoe, I never meant it; I ee have sinned, and would that I alone might “suffer, He raised her hand to his lips and bowed rev- erently before he turned away. At the door he paused and looked backward ; then sprung vehemently to his betrothed’s side. “Oh, Crystel, Crystal, my darling, my poor, precious darling! y heart is crushed within me at this sudden news. I never dreamed m ast would rise up and blast my future; bat, rystel, before I go, let me swear I never loved Tell me just once, = darling, that you love me!” - he was leaning against the mantle, trem- bling and white as its marble; her tears were spent, and her voice had astrange calmness that was far more terrible than the most passionate abandon of ae “ Bertrand, the cloud is upon me; it will never be lifted this side eternity’s shores; but, Ber- trand, dearer than life, stronger than death, is my love for you. Go, now—good-by!” And thus they parted, they whose very souls had merged into one; and the world went on, and the flowers bloomed, and the sun shone. And Bertrand Haighte and Crystel Roscoe eer at the inscrutable providence of their Creator! . CHAPTER IIT. _AT THE TOWERS. THE setting sun was shining redly over the high,gloomy turrets and flaming against the tiny diamond-paned casements; the vale below, where Edenwilde lay, was draped in the soft, sweet dusk that follows the sunset, while high up on per peaked hills the glowing glories rete sill visible. The Towers was a with age, of storied Legends had it that a half-dozen generations be- fore the gee heir, when young Lord Oscar Haighte fled from his fatherland, use of the human blood that stained his guilty hands, he had bought this grand old pe then] eke Just suited to his fierce, fearless nature, was this ill-starred Castle Cavnoch to young Lord Oscar, and, in loomy silence, he and his meek- eyed young wife ab sad, haunting face was pees long after she was laid to her last slum- pew and their three children, took up their ea i. The Towers,” as the owner preferred WILL SHE MARRY HIM} At Lord Oscar’s death, a paper, closely writ- ten and imposingly sealed, was left to his oldest | son, Egbert, who, after swearing to obey its in- structions, was permitted to learn what those instructions were. All his life was devoted to the duty imposed upon him, while the paper, bearing his added signature, was reserved to his oldest son and heir, Thus had the mysterious document been handed, so ran the legend, through seven suc- cessive generations, until, when our ws opens, it was in the possession of Bertrand Haighte, the present master of The Towers. Though born of English aristocracy, the young man, as had his father and grandfather, dropped the title to their name, and adopted the prevalent American mode of address and cour- tesy. On his twenty-first birthday, a time only three years earlier, Bertrand Haighte had read the letter written by the fingers that had so long’ ago returned to their mother dust. It is true, there was a certain air of romance lingering about this family relic, not to say an atmosphere of mysterious solemni ; yet, perhaps, because in these unromantic, matter-of-fact la years of ours, when ghosts and goblins, deeds of chivalry, and knights of gallant renown, are but stori fables, Bertrand Haighte seemed to care little about the entailed letter that was as much his as The Towers itself. He had sworn to it, to be sure, because he knew he: had to, or else lose his expected possession; he had a vague sort of idea that it was only a trifling journey to perfo: or a deed to do, that the original Lord Haighte had left undone. p So, after rece it, it was with speechless surprise he learned the value of his oath; and. for twenty-four hours after that memorable birth-night, young Haighte had walked the floor of his library in a restless agony of sorrow, an- ger and terror. Gradually he grew calmer, as the days wore on; then he became accustomed to thinking of the awful birthright; and, by the time he had seen pretty Crystel Roscoe, on her return from. college, he was prepared to despise the warning of that letter—forget its injunctions in the fas- cinations of his sweetheart’s grace and beauty. ae the Sg er eae it. < sates ertrand Haighte was galloping up the bridle-path that led, on one aide, to The Towers, after he had left Edenwilde and Crystel. Those horrible words, so simple to a stranger’s ear, were fraught with a mysticism and terror to him, for ro were the words written years and years ago by Oscar Haighte’s hand: “FLORIAN STILL LIVES!” = “ea ee ee emotion, for those words, from the lips of one who never had heard of his ancestor's stran letter—her, who was, above all women, to mistress of The Towers—at once filled him with keenest agony and greatest alarm. They were the very words that closed the letter that lay, yellow with age, at the old stone Towers; by. those words was a Haighte to be warned if he \ id =

Page 6

‘disposed 6 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? forgot his oath, or dared violate it; by them was he to know there was no possible escape to ha cae or prosperity, except on the terms laid own and signed by so many of the long-dead bees Shi = Of all this was pours Bertrand thinking, as he dashed recklessly along, the fresh wind from off the water blowing over his hot, flushed face. At the outer gate, he sprung from his horse, and threw the reins to a waiting groom; entered the grand front entrance, and proceeded to the li- brary. It was very unlike what one would expect to find at The Towers, after seeing the solemn, si- lent building from without, where not a sacri- legious hand had touched a stone since the days when the drawbridge and armor-hall had been two of the features of the estate, A long, light room, looking front on the sloping-megdow-land that surrounded the house for several acres; to the side, on the sides of the hills, and the river flowing below, a carpet of light, bright emerald velvet covered the floor; alarge oval table, scattered over with books and papers; easy-chairs, upholstered in green leather, and shelves filled with a choice, gaily selection of works of every description; poetical, historical, political, religious. Into this apartment (which was often used as a reception-room durin the summer, while the family—consisting of ertrand’s mother and _ sisters, with their servants—was at the fashion- able watering-place, and who had not yet re- turned) Bertrand went, agitated and grief- stricken, At the threshold he paused in amazement; then, recollecting himself, removed his hat courteously and bowed; for it wasa lady, lean- _ ing carelessly against the open window, that surprised him. She immediately came forward ina peculiarly graceful manner. “This is Mr. Bertrand Haighte, of The Towers?” Her voice was wonderfully liquid and melo- dious, and he could not avoid noticing the dark, te gleam in her eyes. “Tam Bertrand Haighte. How can I serve madam? “ Mi piven picere, sir. I am Miss Del Rose, of New York.” She spoke slowly, significantly, The blood re- ceded frem his face, and he stared blankly at her. “‘ And you are the peairoven sent to cxush my very life! You have been to her, and blasted all her hopes! and all for a silly fable!” He was looking sternly at her, his angry eyes shining like sheet-lightning. “No, Mr. Haighte. I am the agent of one whose law Ican notevade. Like yourself, lam bound by an oath; unlike yourself, I am not violate it. I have seen Crystel Ros- coe; I have warned her. I now seek you, Ber- trand Haighte, to warn you.” Her ey eee eyes were funding his inmost soul; he felt himself growing helpless under the insufferable glare, “You have no reason to do so, Miss Del Rose, Iam acting as Iever intend doing, entirely at my own discretion. Permit me to have re- freshments offered, while you excuse me,” eae ees ee ee -friendshi "He would have bowed himself away, but she laid her tiny hand on his sleeve. “No, Mr. Haighte, not till Ihave given you the counsel I came to give; not till I have beg- ged you to remember the solemn words of the letter handed you from the grave; not till I re- mind ee that the closing words of it are true; that Florian still lives; lives to avenge her wrongs ; lives topunish you for violating your oath,’ “ But how do you know the words of this let- ter, that mortal eye save the didest son of the. — # Haightes never read A strangely sweet <mile came to her eyes. “ Because I am one of them you haye sworn to sweep from the face of the earth!” There was no tremor in her tones, no glimmer of the steady eyes. Bertrand groaned. ‘The accursed oath—would I had torn it into a million of shreds, and braved the conse- quences!”’ “Mr. Haighte, I, Undine Del Rose, and you, are sworn enemies according to the letter. Shall we be?” Those wondrous eyes were letting the long lashes curl over their darkling depths, and the voice was modulated to exquisite owness. ‘Who are poo me?’ ‘* & descendant of the victim of Lord Oscar Haighte’s hand; the only living representative, And my life you have sworn to take.. It is in your power now. But Iam not afraid. Shall we be enemies hereafter, or friends?’ She extended her hand and looked earnestly at him, ““Woe comes to the Haightes if they but touch the hand of one of fp You have broken the tie between me and my only one; why should I be your friend?” _ “I will tell you why. Because I wear this jewel; the jewelthe letter spoke of; the jewel the letter commands shall be a sign of peace whenever it comes; the jewel that the Lord of Haighte gave his victim once, then stole from his dead body. By this token, 1 demand your ” She held up her finger and the glittering green and red veined stone that adorned it. Bertrand rubbed his eyes m bewilderment. She had spoken the truth. But, how had she obtained it, that had been lost these fifty years? He dared not ask. ri “Undine Del Rose, you have conquered. I yield; your friend.” He took her hand, warm and throbbing, in his own, so cold and damp. _Thus they sealed the compact, and the beau- tiful girl rode away, a smile of strange triumph on her passionate lips; and a light that was darkly ominous shone in her eyes as she looked down on lovely Edenwilde lying amid the dark- ening shadows, CHAPTER IV. A BOLD RESOLVE. A LONELY country roadside at the gloaming, is perhaps not the most pleasant place to a by one’s self, particularly if that same lonesome self be a young, pretty girl, as young and pretty

Page 7

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? a a 48 Undine Del Rose, who, with her eyes glow- Ing like twin stars, and her round, @ cheeks flushing with a rich, scarlet bloom, was dashing along iowetd the railway station. Her good fortune had exceeded her wildest dreams; that she should compel proud Bertrand Haighte to take her hand in friendship at the Moat f st in- terview, was news enough to make her heart beat joyously; as joyously it did beat, as she hastened on. At the railway depot she returned the horse she had hired, Stee a ticket for New York, and then, as if impatient of. quiet restfulness; pees to and fro on the long, deserted plat- orm. On her pretty hand shone the curious jewel, whose vivid scarlet veins reminded one of living | blood, and Undine Del Rose caressed it with a sort of horrible triumph. A few moments later and the long train came thundering on; halted & second, took this handsome dark girl, and a half-dozen other passengers, and then went speeding along again, now under dark tunnels, now out into the shimmering starlight; always winding, like a huge serpent of fire, along e soft-flowing Hudson. : It had told nine o’clock by Undine’s tiny little Geneva watch, as she alighted at the city ter- minus, and looked, half inquiringly, half ex- pectantly about her. A gentleman, dressed in the prevailing style, of engaging manners and fine appearance, came forward to meet her. “Undine, I was afraid you would be unable to catch the train. I’ve been so longing to see you. It seems an age since this morning.” Undine’s face darkened, and she ignored the extended hand. ‘““It seems to me you are ever the one I am pies ado to be welcomed by. Where is the car: ? The fair blonde face finshed at the words. “Undine, my darling, do not speak so. .Re- member—” ¥ ‘‘I remember but one thing, and that is, I de- test you more thoroughly after this visit I’ve paid than I ever did before,” Her eyes aooee like beads of jet under a brilliant a ight, as they thus gkdeange sal- utations in a low, whispering monotone. “Here is the carriage, Undine. Mrs. St. Ha- vens sent it.” Perhaps Undine Del Rose did not notice it, in her haughty wrath, but Clifford Temple’s voice was ct and careless when he spoke; but she certainly did observe that he never offered his hand, as was his wont delightedly to do, as she step d into the brougham. ‘ 7 our manners seem to have flown with your welcome. Undine glanced sideways at him, never fear- ing but that a few pet words from her could drive away the shadows from his face, as she had done a dozen times before, But to-night Undine Del Rose had spoken careless words that had estranged a heart that loved her. And how often do we do the very selfsame thing! ‘ ; _ It was witha new sensation—one of curiosity to know what to make of this strange disposi- tion on Clifford Temple’s part, and of fear lest she had really destroyed the love she had thought to trifle with—that Undine Del Rose leaned back in the satin cushions of Mrs. St. Havens’s elegant brougham, and watched her: lover from under her vailing lashes, ‘*Is that so? I must confess that the rather cool reception I received may have served to damp them.” He just glanced at her, and Undine wondered if it Spal uite kill her to have Clifford Tem- ple cease to love her? and yet, woven into the woof of that thought, was a remembrance of Bertrand Haighte’s handsome face and courtly air. ‘Perhaps you would not care to hear of my _adventures since I left you yesterday morn- Qi indiné spoke very indifferently, but the gen- tleman’s cool reply was quite as careless. _ ‘‘ Well, Lcan not say that I have any particular desire to learn them. Just as you please, how- ever. By-the-by, I just recollect an engage- mans : at ten o'clock. Yow’ll excuse me, Un- ne He called to the coachman to rein in his horses at the corner, then, with a nod and a touch of his hat to Undine, he sprung out, and went up the avenue, She gazed after him, her eyes full of wonder- ment; a smile of challenging triumph, as though he had not dared measure lances with her, rose to her lips, and then she leaned lazil back among the cushions, as the carriage bowled rap- idly up the silent avenue, Be ond an occasional illy-concealed smile that half displayed her little white teeth, she did not betray her thoughts during that ride home and when the carriage stopped at the elegan mansion on Lexington avenue, she rung out unassisted, and with a pleasant ‘All right Martin,” ran up the steps to the og iatisoaoeed inner door. ' - A lady met her, just as she laid her hand-on the silver handle—a matronly, stylish woman, with a brilliant smile, and keen, bright eyes, - She caught Undine’s hand as they met. —T dear, I am so thankful you have re- turned. You can’timagine how worried I have been. Come right up to be room, to warm you. Isn’t it remarkably chilly for an October night? Cndine kissed the clear white forehead. ‘‘T am sorry you have fretted; I have had a delightful tine, and found all the Halls well— especially. we ** But where’s Mr. Temple!’ He left the house in the brougham.” ‘*Mrs, St. Havens, I do not know where he ” = ’ is. ere was a suddenly-forced hauteur in Un. dine’ words that pre le the lady’s attention ; and as they had just reached the upper landing, she turned eae yf around, and looked at the beautiful flushed face. 4 “* Have you had another lover’s quarrel? Tell me, Undine.” She laughed. 4 ‘You seem quite agitated over so trivial an affair. Yes, we have had a slight coolness, hardly a quarrel. He’s altogether too devoted, Mrs. Bt. avens. I told him so, and the conse-

Page 8

~ WILL SHE MARRY HIM? quence was, Mr. Temple remembered an en- gagement must be atten to, and left me to own pleasant society.” as Fs St. Havens walked slowly into the splen- did apartment she called ‘‘ her room,” A large front chamber, covered with royal velvet carpeting; adorned with rich pink plush and silver furniture; decorated by byous of all kinds; all combining to form a picture that was the perfect em ment of extreme wealth, taste and luxurious habits. After the door had closed behind them, Mrs. St. Havens turned again to Undine, but with so strangely altered an expression on her fine features, that the girl cttered an involuntary OFYs.: ti Heavens and earth! Mrs. St. Havens, what is the matter?” Well might she ask, as she gazed upon the ashen white lips, the pale deathly face; the eyes, so full of tremor and dismay. “There is nothing the matter. I am only suffering in my mind a portion of the aguny ou will endure if you love Clifford Temple. ndine Del Rose, beware how you trifle with him; for, besides loving you, he has you in his gh i And not only you, but me, me, Mrs. t, Havens!” She almost sereamed the last words; and an + hala smile slowly gathered on Undine’s i Tabane you are excited beyond your know]- edge. of course, you are either mistaken, or alarmed neediessly. Pp “I wish to Heaven I were! But I tell you, Undine Del Rose, that the day that sees you and Clifford Temple enemies witnesses— Ah, I dare not speak the horrible words! But, girl, girl! as you value your earthly rs ome as you value my welfare, oh, be careful how you of- fend him!” Pale from agitation, Mrs. St, Havens sunk into the chair near by, while Undine stood, darklingly brilliant, deflantly beautiful, beside her, “Tt may all be true. I will not doubt but you mean all you say. And yet, Mrs. St. Ha- vens, I freely confessto you that I have ceased to care for Clifford Temple. To-day I met m psc the only man I ever saw whom I loved, worshiped, the moment [ saw him. If he h asked me, I’d have married him on the spot.” A sudden flush flamed over Mrs, St. Havens’s face. “Oh, Undine, how can you? But you must crush it; you must forget this stranger, who- ever he is. Undine, you must marry Clifford Temple.” ~ : Then the girl laughed; a low ripple of tanta- er erat tif I love this other, this god among men—” ‘6 You mustn’t ever allow yourself to think of it. Oh, Undine, believe me; heed my warning! I never told you before, for I fondly hoped to see you united to Clifford without any know- ledge of the dread secret, that never could have added to your happiness. But when I saw you come without him to-night, oh, my heart sunk within me!” “You are not so brave asI. And if the fate decision, I of ten million worlds hung on ge: would not hesitate to marry t es neg stranger, if those worlds were eternally lost therefor!” Mrs. St. Havens buried her face in her hands, and a silence ensued, almost painful in its inten- sity. a Who is this other?” she asked, hesitatingly. The answer came prompt and proud from Undine’s lips. “Bertrand Haighte, of The Towers.” “ Merciful God, forbid it!” Mrs. St. Havens sprung wildly from her chair, her eyes fairly {planing from their sockets, her fair hands beating against the air, as if to drive pate the words. ; ‘‘Unsay them, oh, Undine, unsay those words! Bertrand Haighte— Oh, what is your sin, that this awful calamity is sent upon us? That you ever went to the Halls to-day, when I m have known you would have seen him?” ith a faint wail of anguish, she slid down to the soft carpet, unconscious and still. After Undine had summoned the maid, and seen Mrs. St, Havens at rest, she ascended the stairs to her own room; and there, with starry. eyes, looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Yes, Undine Del Rose, you are fairly started on your career of adventure! Never give up, no matter what may come, until you have ac- complished the solitary object of your lonely life, to which all other aims shall bend! Never till you are the bride of Bertrand Haighte will your work be accomplished. And it shall be accomplished by fair means or foul, or Undine Del Rose will die in the attempt.” CHAPTER V. LUBRLINE’S LOVE. BERTRAND HAIGHTE stood, almost a petrified man, looking at, not seeing, the graceful fleet- ig font a ei own the rocky ing from The {Towers to the main road The twilight was rapidly gathering, and from the windows of Edenwilde, that lay nestling so lovingly on the greensward at the foot of the hills, he saw faint, twinkling lights, now in one apartment, pow in another, and at last shining like a calm beacon-light in Crystel’s room, A bitter mood was upon him, and a keen an- guish was in his heart as he looked at the bright point he had so often watched in happier mo- ments, as the signa] for him to come to his love, How the world was changed since last the soothing dusk-shadows had fallen! To-night, instead of the low, murmurous music of the Hudson as it softly laved the base of the hills, came a dull, sullen sound, as if to reprove him and discourage him. The hills, ever his glory, and delight in the grand dignity of silent, sol- emn restfulness, now appeared to rise grimly, savagely up in the darkness, like bold, trium- phant fingers pointing out his misery. For several moments he stood in the large marble-floored rotunda, watching and wonder- ing if all the joy of his life was gone out; then, as the bells o: e Towers began to the hour of eight, he turned with a chilled s iver, half of cold. half of inward nervousness, and

Page 9

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? 9 re-entered the warm, light library where Un- dine Del Rose had left a faint, sweet, rare per- fume lingering in the air. With a gesture of disgust he threw up the Window, “The sooner I forget her the better! And yet, what wondrous eyes she had!” d with the strange inconsistency of man he took the best way of forgetting Undine Del Rose; that of brooding over her strange, witch- ing charms. (et, his very heart was aching to bursting while he thought of Crystel Roscoe; and he was ever thinking of her, even while the dark eyes and crimson lips of her who had stricken them was floating before his memory’s eyes. A long, long while he sat there, his senses half-fascinated by that subtly fragrant odor that persistently lingered around him; with a ten- derness, it seemed to him, and he grew angry with himself at the imaginative thought. _,,And while he sat there, yet grieving and firiving tosee light ahead for him and Crystel, ie became suddenly aware that there wasa de- lightful commotion at the door; the next mo- ment, his grand, stately mother and haughtily elegant sister entered the library, bringing in neir garments the sweet, cool freshness of the night air; and the night air on the highlands is blissful to,breathe. Bertrand sprung to welcome them, an apology on his lips. “You need to ask forgiveness, you naught boy, for not coming to the city to meet us. if it had not been that we were carried perforce. by Mrs. Judge Temple to her residence, I should have Poe gp to you. As it was, her son accompanied us, and saw us safely on the train.” The aristocratic lady kissed her handsome boy, then sunk wearily down in a capacious arm-chair. “Sit down, my dear; Bertrand, just close the window. I am sovery fatigued. © I really do not see how we would have man had it not m for young Mr. Temple. @ was very handsome, don’t you think so, Lena?” * Miss ray carelessly twirled the rings on her finger, but a hightened color flamed for one brief second on her marble-white face, used as she was to guarding her thoughts from any one’s eye. Mi = I think he is very handsome. He was agreeable and gentlemanly, not at all presum- ing a ire ener oat ‘That is an unusual compliment for you to pay, Lena. span as Gussie will favor this stranger with a less flattering opinion!” Bertrand laid his hand ecaressingly on his oungest sister’s head; she was the pet of the pecans st and Bertrand idolized her. She looked a in his face. * Do you sup! am going to tell my secret impression of Mr. Clifford Temple? ‘Not I, brother mine. I willleave that to Lurline. By the way, Bertie, how could we have neglected to inquire after Hellice Roscoe and darling little Crystel? We came home a fortnight earlier than wee ted to prepare for your wedding.” A sudden cold shiver thrilled over Bertrand; he looked out at the window into the dense darkness, striving to hide the pallor he felt creeping over his face, ee "She is well, Gussie mia. And the rest of the Roscoes, too. I was there to-day, as usual.” He spoke naturally, wondering to himself why he did not tell them the ee events of the day. Something deterred ; and he obeyed the silent impulse. “We are going back to New York to-morrow for a couple of days,” said Lena; ‘‘ perhaps you and Crystel will go? She has such exquisite taste in selecting goods. The cards are not out yet, to hinder either of you.” “T certainly have no or og emed He murmured the wo Mrs. Haighte thought, and hissisters. But they made no remarks thereon. : “Then please ride over to Edenwilde early in ac ceinie and bring Crystel and Hellice bac Pretty, imperious Gussie kissed her hand to her brother, and then went, singing a gay tune, up the stairs. Mrs. Haighte followed, bidding her son good- night, leaving Lurline alone with her brother. ‘I did not want to before them, Ber- trand, but I must tell you. Oh, brother, I have met the one at last! 1 loved him as soon as I saw him; am I unmaidenly, Bertrand? I knew you would sympathize with me if any one would, because you are so happy in the love of little Crystel Roscoe.” He almost groaned, but Lurline did not per- ceive it. “Unmaidenly, my stately sister! I can not —— a Haighte, a woman of our family, be- ing that. No, my dear Lena, to love is never unwomanly, provided the loved one be an idol worthy of worship. Who is this Mr. Temple?” Somehow, as his lips uttered this name, there stole across his senses that same sweet fragrance “He carries that same perfume. Isn’t it :glo- re- Her voice mellowed down toa ha hisper; and Bertrand stooped and kissed we BS: apd “Good-night, Lurline. Dream of him, sister dear, and if he be worth A and love you as you love him, all will be we Then, after shoe had left him with her sweet sai d sat, long after Undine Del Rose had made her vow to win him; long after Crystel Roscoe had extin ed her li ‘ht and sobbed herself to an unquiet slumber in Hellice’s true arms. He was baie i what to say, what to do, when he went to Edenwilde on the morrow morning, as he was expected to do. And, with Crystel’s white, rounded face, and Undine’s haunting eyes floating alternately be. fore him, he sat and m alone with the silent midnight and his own sad thoughts, s very indifferently, ,

Page 10

Im ~ claimed, passionately, poet to an 10 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? CHAPTER VI. THE FINAL RENUNCIATION. THe family at Edenwilde had just arisen from the breakfast-table, as Bertrand Haighte’s card was handed to Crystel. General Roscoe had passed from the break- fast-parlor into his private study beyond, and did not see the look of unutterabie agony that eg to Crystel’s face as she turned to Hel- ce, _ “Tecan not seehim. You will tell him, Hel- Lo Tell him it is cruel to come here; teil m—' ‘ ree gently stopped her sister’s excited “It would be far better, poor little one, that you should see him. Perhaps he can explain— perhaps that is his errand.” A sudden radiance leaped to stel’s face, and she caught her sister’s hand excitedly. ‘*Hellice, do you think he has come for that? oh, my heart seems stopping at the bare sugges- tion! at can he have ridden over for, thus early, unless it be to make it all right?” en darting by her sister, she almost flew into the sunny parlor, where Bertrand awaited “Oh, Bertrand, tell me quickly that you have come to explain this awful mystery that is keeping us apart! Tell me, dearest, I am right!’ ; Sit wound her two clinging arms around his , irregular neck, and he felt her rapi breathing his face. For a moment he held her in a ully fierce embrace, then he gently held “Oh, i dar] uffering, lovi : m. r darling, my suffering, lovin little et Wad to God Matas were my 4 rand—” A cry, fraught with agon lips, and she staggered away sofa, He followed her, yet afar off. “My lips are sealed, Crystel. How dare I erase recreant to the trust imposed on me be- re my birth? Oh, my darling, my darling wowt you have mercy on me, on yourself, and let me have ype for my own, regardless of this past trouble?” ~ “But Florian,” she murmured, faintly. A fierce pang reminded him of it. True, there was Moria. In the excitement of seeing her, and the witchery that. Undine Del Rose had cast about him, he had forgotten why he on. , fell from her om him to the dared not marry her; forgotten the very cause of all his troubles, But he remembered it now, with renewed sorrow. ““T would I had died before to-day,” he ex- fro, and gazing upon Crystel’s bowed head. _ “No: ive to avert this shadowing sorrow. Mr. Batehie, am I intruding?” i It was Hellice Roscoe’s sweet, womanly voice; a voice whose very sound inspired one with courage.’ He grasped her hands vehemently. “Tf I might set us all right, ’'d live a hun- ed years in_the loneliest Towers. Oh, Hellice ane die, and all because Jhaye dared love er, a ea ungeon at The sister Hellice, [am afraid | | “That is wrong, Bertrand. "You love S- tel; she loves you—nay, my sister, do not raise your head so imploringly for me to cease; let me do what I believe to bemy duty. Let usall do our duty, and God will see to the issue. Yes, my ‘dear Bertrand, you haved loved in inno- cence and happiness; and now, because sudden clouds darken your landscape, and unseen chasms debar your progress, you must not sit down and grieve.” ‘And what can Ido? All the efforts mortal man can put forth will not undo the past.” Hellice smiled. “‘Thave thought this mysterious affair all over. Last nightin the silence and darknéss, I watched the glimmer of light in the library windows at. The Towers, and decided that it was wrong to all6w such grief to kill you and her, without making an honest effort to remove it. I, for one, — Bertrand, am willing to help you. a The young man looked at her in a sort of be- wildered pity. “Have you any ideaof what youare to do?” “Not now. But, can not your mother, when she learns this family secret from you, be able—” : Bertrand sprung to his feet. “Tella female the contents of that letter I swore never to reveal? that no mortal ear, save the oldest son, and the executor of the estate, ever heard since there existed a Haighte? Hellice, that were an impossibility. That would bring down on my mother’s head an awful curse.” 3 Hellice looked seriously at him, “I may be wrong, but I think, were I you, for love’s sake, I’d risk it.” She smiled kindly at him, then withdrew from the room. Neither spoke for several minutes; then it was Crystel who broke the oppressive silence. ‘Bertrand, I have but one favor to ask of you. Will you grant it? Promise me, on your solemn word. She laid her white, trembling hand on his arm. “Pll swear toanything you ask, my darling.” ‘‘Then please don’t come to Edenwilde any more. Oh, Bertrand, I see plainly I must give ou up. 1 must steel my heart to my tate, ares. I never will accept your hand, even if you wp a this mystery ; becauseif, by doing 80, you bring @ curse on your mother, what leasure would such a _dearly-bought priv- illege bring us? No, Bertrand, your first love, your best allegiance, is to your mother. 1 can suffer for you, my darling, if not with you. Now, Bertrand, you see I am strong and brave; please say good-by, just as any friend would do, and then go away. I will explain to papa; you to Mrs. Haighte, and Lurline, and Gussie,’ She was trembling from head to foot, desplte her pitiful attempt to appear com , and her lover gazed at her, his heart throbbing madly. He suddenly caught her in his arms, and pressed hot kisses on her pale face, her quiver- ing lips; then, as if he feared his own violence might frighten her, he reverently laid his hands on her fair head, : ““Thave sworn, my darling; and because a

Page 11

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? 1 Haighte never yet was false to his word, is the reason why I this day give you up, forever and orever |” ere was no haste in his movement ashe de-- ; he seemed suddenly petrified. He felt no sorrow, no regret, no disquiet, only. this hor- Tible stillness that was not restfulness, this pain- ful calmness that was not resignation. So he went home, and met awn. wasnt she coming? Where’s Hellice and Crys- ussie on the front + Then he remembered why he had “gone to | Edenwilde. “Oh, it is impossible for them to leave home to-day.” Gussie’s pretty face clouded. “‘ Never mind, sister mia. next best, isn’t it?” that must be told soon. But he thought of the two days that were as days of grace a him, be- fore his family would be compelled to learn the truth; and he decided to wait until their return to The Towers again. If he had but spoken! if he had but known, but thought! In after days he remembered ‘it, and wondered why he was permitted to follow his own way. ' CHAPTER VIL ONE DAY, BERTRAND HaIcure tried in vain to analyze his feelings as he rode along in the Pe os train that morning with his beautiful sisters an stately mother, Lurline and Gessie were chatting away on some light, joyous subject; Lena, with her Bweet, grave iso irradiated with a delicate scarlet bloom as hee Best the place where she rg see the one she had so suddenly learned ove. Bertrand’s thoughts puzzled him. First, he was alarmed to find how vividly those witch- ing, liquid eyes seemed ever peering into his own; he was ashamed that his h was not broken because of Crystel Roscoe; he wondered if Clifford Temple and Le Del Rose and Undine were any way connected; and, finally, he could not understand how it was that his mother and sisters were on their wa for his marria; gag to rs any stranger, en, by some curious lightnin speed of reasoning, he Keer perhaps, after all, he would see the splendid girl who held such a _ro- mantic hold on him; he might love her—he blushed at the audacity of his unspoken thoughts —Crystel refused to marry him: the weddi g might still be, with a change of brides! d as the jong train steamed into the depot, he sprung from his seat, vexed and mortified that he had given such free rein to his imagina- ons, — i ‘““We are to drive to Mrs. Temple's. We promised her this visit. = 4 And so they rode straight on to their fate— Bertrand Haighte and Lurline! . Temple met the party in her elegant re- ception-saloon. to purchase articles [ll go, and that’s Again he locked the news between his li S | , when the bride-elect was no. “T am delighted to meet your son, Mrs’ Haighte,” she said, as Bertrand was presented “*T am sure my boy, Clifford, will be pleased to meet him. And now, after lunch, we will go’ onashopping tour; then call on Mrs. St. Havens, then through the Boulevard home to dinner; after that to hear Nilsson. Is my programme agreeable?” An answer was prevented by the entrance of . gentleman. Mrs. Temple arose. ; “This is my son, Mr. Clifford, Mr. Haighte.” Temple advanced to exchange greetings, and | Bertrand instantly detected that same sweet, nameless fragrance that Undine had left after her. He longed to ask him, but pride forbade. All that afternoon, while Lurline was so per- fectly happy in the society of Clifford, Bertrand was restlessly watching every passing stage and carriage for a glimpse of that radiant, flushed face. Several times Clifford rallied him on his abstractedness, but Gussie always excused him. “He is lonely away from his betrothed, Mr. oa Wouldn’t you be perfectly disconso- “Tf the lady were so charming as yourselves, I would certainly suffer terribly.” And while Gussie was laughing so merrily, Temple would steal a glance at Lurline that made her cheeks bloom gloriously. ‘* And now for Mrs. St. Havens.” They drove up, and Bertrand alighted, little pe a he was to meet his fate within those wal The footman announced that the lady in ques- tion was not at home, but that Miss Undine Del Rose was in. Bertrand’s listless ears caught the sound, and his heart leaped to his throat. Mrs. Temple turned to Mrs. Haighte. “We need not go in, then?” Bertrand interposed, with erie a4 indif- ferent manner, but wildly-thro ing heart. < “‘ Perhaps Lena and Gussie are fatigued riding and wish to alight.” But Lurline was only too happy to sit there on the carriage seat forever, with Clifford Tem- ple beside her; she did not say so, however, but implied her present comfort. Gussie was in an impatient mood for the Boulevard, so Bertrand could do no more than glance at the house, take its number, and be driven away. And, during these five minutes of debate, Undine Del Rose was peeping from behind the lace curtains of her own reom, with flashing eyes, and trium- phant smile; her proud heart beating as it was seldom wont to beat, as she looked down on the man she already worshiped so madly. As the carriage drove away she drew a long breath of relief. E “* What can be more fortunaté than that Mrs. St. Havens a a: she pgs seen what mig ive happened . She 373 leaning against the snowy-white rep of her lounging chair, and her scarlet-stained cheeks, and jetty hair, streaming over neck and rounded bosom; her glowing, sparkling eyes, made a rare, orientally warm, picture. “He has come to me; he must learn to love, be the result what itmay, He will come again I feel sure; to-night, I The fates favor o-

Page 12

~ 12 a me, for Mrs. St. Havens will be absent til] Satur- day. Oh, Bertrand Haighte, I’d sell my very oe for one love—such love as I feel for you?” gradually grown dusky, as she sat |. there, her dark, passionate eyes partly vailed by their heavy lashes, her small hands, as fect as nature ever molded, crossed on her breast, ‘in an attitude of exquisite, dreamy reverie. Presently she arose, and lighted the gas; then rung for her maid to arrange her toilet. Confident in her expectation of meeting Ber- trand Haighte, and conscious of her beauty, as also her determination to lay siege to his heart, she selected her most becoming dress. ; It was a black grenadine, full of shimmering waves of darkness; her beautiful neck and arms shone through the gossamer covering, and a heavy golden chain and cross was clasped about the round throat. Her hair was dressed as she invariably wore it; floating like a cloud down to her slender waist, and tied with a glowing scarlet ribbon. She was magnificent as she stood before the pier glass, and adjusted the broad, scarlet silken sash; and as she heard the door-bell ring, a bril- liant smile hovered on her lips. She listened to his footsteps as he entered the parlor; then, after several seconds of silent waiting, she went in, bewildering, glorious in her dark, tropical ee : . “Mr. Haighte! I am so surprised, so de- ighted!’ Mere went to him, both hands extended. ’ He arose, his senses dazzled; his heart throb- bing, and took her hands, not relinquishing _ them ‘« And I am the happiest of all men to be wel- comed by so lovely a charmer.” He led her to the sofa, and hold of her hands. “T called this afternoon with Mr. cpa as but Mrs. Temple and the other ladies conclu ed to await the return of Mrs. St. Havens.” He looked down at her expressive face; sud- denly she raised her eyes. “T saw you, Mr. Haighte. I knew you would come again,” He had fully intended watching to see if she betrayed any especial knowledge of young Tem- le; but her answer thrilled him with so delight- 11 a sensation that he forgot it. ‘‘And why did you know it, Undine Del Rose?” ‘No, call me Undine, please, and I will tell then let go.his He caressed the shapely fingers that were ly- ing so temptingly near his own. “Then, tindin e, why did you know I would come?” / . Her hand trembled, and he knew it; and he realized how infatuated he was becoming, yet he wooed the temptation. ™ ian pe aa My Fy you s0. I thought sure. our heart wo you. ; She gmiiled in his eyes that same smile that had haunted bim ever since that first time. “Tt did tell me, Undine, my beautiful one. And now I am here, to see you, to hear you speak, to— = rs He almost said ‘ to love you.’ “ And you do not auite hate me for the part my Se ‘ = Se a WILL SHE MARRY .HIM? duty compelled me to play? Oh, Mr. Haighte, I was so afraid you’d despise me.’ : He slipped his arm around her waist. “ Despise you, Undine?’ How can ym say it, when I’ve thought but of you since I saw you? Undine, you beautiful temptress, do you know you are making the veriest slave of me?” He was toying with the soft hair that floated across his lips. “Oh, Mr. Haighte, I would not do that, ’m sure. But I’m so glad you like me.” She looked so tenderly at him, he could with difficulty refrain from snatching kisses from those proud, curved lips. ie Temple is a very agreeable host, is he no She asked him the question. “Yes, a perfect gentleman, You are great friends, I believe?” He was half-jealous already, lest it might be more than friendship. Undine arched her brow with a pretty, impa- tient gesture, “Y-e-s, That is, Clifford and Mrs. St. Havens are—Mrs, St. Havens is my lady bountiful, you know;Jam a mere charity dependent; one of her freaks I imagine—I think she means to marry him one day, in fact, I know it.” How carelessly she told it to him, and when he arose to bid her good-night, he felt so relieved ; and yet—poor Lurline! * Youw’ll come again?” She laid her hand on his arm. ‘“Will you ride with me to the Park in the morning?” a aa be delighted. Then I will say good-. vight. “ _ She smiled as she spoke, but Bertrand laugh- ingly took her hand and drew her to his side, ‘Let me kiss you, Undine. May I?” She flushed deliciously ; then a sudden dignity came to her, for she loved this man. “Not yet, Mr. Haighte—Bertrand.” She murmured hisname in a low, melodious whisper, that was music in his ears long after he sought his pillow that night. And all this while, not a thought of Crystel Roscoe! ; Poor fellow! was he really so much to blame? CHAPTER VIII. ANOTHER DAY. THE elegant breakfast service on Mr. Tem- ple’s table was glittering in the broad band of sunlight that lay upon it, that frosty October morning; and with the genial warmth of tho partly open register around them the sociable ousehold were chatting gayly. “ You spirited yourself away so suddenly last night that I had no CopOrtansey for a quiet ci- gar. Were you at the theater, Haighte, or out promenading?” You missed a treat if you did sag ieee y= rand was eating his egg thoughtfull when Clifford addressed bim; eg a Little in surprise, and Gussie laughed. “I do declare, Bertie, I shall.make Crystel t home, by telling her of yours,” laugh heartily when we of = meee abateasted fi © made an effort to join in the little ripple of laughter that went round, es

Page 13

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? 18 e Such devotion does not often exist, even When the bridal day wants but a few weeks of its birth, I pride myself thatmy son is a model _of constancy.” Haighte looked proudly at her handsome poy:, , Liste did she know how her words stab- imi “ Apropos of how and where you spent your evening last night, Haighte. I want you to ac- company me this afternoon to call on a very particular lady friend of mine, This morning we'll go to—” ; “T will gladly be at your service after lunch but before I am particularly engaged. Several propery agents to look after, amt some taxes have settled.” * Oh; then, Pll meet you at Delmonico’s—say two o’clock.? Lurline sat, with cold hands and hot cheeks, wondering who that lady friend of Temple’s as, As the gentlemen went’ out, she detained Ber- d, to whom her agitation plainly revealed her anxiety. * ‘ S Bertie, chere, please find if he’s engaged to er. He pressed her hand, and while he might have told her then and there that Clifford was betrothed to Mrs, St. Havens, he avoided giving her the pain he knew it must cause her. At the front entrance they parted; Lurline to brood in suspicion, Clifford to attend to his le- itimate business, and Bertand. to call a car- riage and drive straight to Lexington avenue. ndine met him at the door, more charming, if that wero possible, than ever. _ She had attired herself in a garnet silk car- riage-dress, with a costly velvet sacque, cut low across the front where she wore ‘a fine lace cor- sage, round hat, of garnet velvet, with a long, floating bird of Paradise; garnet kids, and heavy Etruscan gold ornaments. That was Undine Del Rose, Mrs, St. Havens’s charity dependent! All that long ride, she wove her chains more tightly about him; his senses were intoxicated by her bewildering beauty, and when they ghted, just in time for Bertrand to meet Tem- ple at the appointed hour, he had decided to offer her his heart, hand and fortune before the night closed upon them. ‘‘ You'll reserve to-night for me, Undine? I want to see a particularly, You can guess what I wish to say, my beautiful one, but I will not tell it to you until I see you af nine this evening.” ‘‘Of course you must come, till then.” She wafted him a kiss, then watched him away. hE is a dangerous game; but I’ve be it and [ll end it, somehow. If Clifford Temple tells him of our engagement—” A Her flashing eyes answered her threat, “Tsee no reason why either should mention me to the other, Jf they should, I will elect rand Haighte for my choice, and Clifford Temple may do his worst.” She was thinking these thoughts as she re- moved her costly wrappings. “ “Perhaps Mrs, St. Havens is a monomaniac Then au revoir on certain subjects; but sane or insane, there is no earthly reason why I should not marry Ber- trand Haighte if I want to. Poor fellow! he, has forgotten that I told him, in that firstinter- view, that he never could marry. Well, he shall not, unless I am the bride!” : She suffered a glad, triumphant light to shine in her eyes; and as she stood smiling at her proud reflection, she little dreamed that the ath, so easy to tread now, that opened so luck- ily before, was so soon to close upon her, leayv- ing her to complete the--journey as best she might, ti “‘ Now, Haighte, to ses my betrothed.” Clifford pan noe their destination as the brougham came to the door. aa Betrothed? You are as fortunate as myself then.” ‘*Perhaps. You see, Bertrand, I am not sure of the welcome I shall receive. My lady-love and I parted not the best of friends. Bertrand laughed, and thought of his parting with his beloved, though not yet betrothed, “These lovers’ tiffs are mere telles. De- pend upon it, the fair one will be all smiles.” Bertrand smiled to himself as the carriage turned into Lexington avenue, and wondered what Undine would say to see him come with Clifford Temple to call on Mrs, St. Havens. As they alighted Clifford turned to him. “Be prepared for the most wondrous revela- tion of beauty you ever beheld.” | “T have heard of the lady’s fair face before to-day. But I fear she is from home.” “T think not. I just caught a glimpse of her as we ascended the steps.” Yogether they entered the same apartment Bertrand had so lately left, and that he was so soon again to visit, to ask Undine to become his wife, He _ awaited with feverish impatience Mrs. St. Havens’s a nce, hoping his charmer would be with her. But, to his surprise, Un- dine entered alone. He glanced at her, and at sight of her could, with di saci repress a cry. He rose and took her hand. . “Miss Del Rose, you are pale and agitated, Has any thing occurred to distress you?” | She stole a tender, wistful glance at him be- fore she replied. 7 “Nothing, thank you, Mr. Haighte. Mr. Temple, you will not find Mrs. St. Havens at home,” gidity as she addressed her lover. He bowed gallantly. “‘T am not desirous of seeing Mrs. St. Havens, I came to present my friend, Mr. Haighte, to my jiancee, but I perceive he has the pleasure of her acquaintance.” A hot flame rose to Bertrand’s face. *¢ Miss Del Rose betrothed to you, Temple? I understood you were interested in the lady of the house.” Seee: He looked from Undine, who was Bitraking inwardly, wondering how this was to end, bu’ outwardly calm and dignified, so rfect was her command of herself, to Cliffo: who, with She changed her voice to one of extreme fri- “-

Page 14

14 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? a smile on his lips and in his eyes, seeraed to en- Joy. the situation. ‘You are mistaken, Mr. Temple, in repre- senting me as hp chi to you, when you know I never cared for you. “Mr. Haighte, be so kind as to close the register? the room is too warm.” Bertrand’s back was toward them a moment as he obeyed her request; and then she looked at Temple. One of those lightning glances that told him to beware how he thwarted her, that expressed the defiance she felt—the love she en- tertained for Bertrand. He smiled calmly back at her flushing, pas- sionate cheeks, and then Haighte joined them again. “He seemed to have undergone a complete rev- olution of feeling since he entered the house; when he stepped across the threshold it had been in the full flush of his impulsive passion for tlie siren who had dured him, first from happiness with 2 bho Roscoe, and now from Crystel without happiness. Of a sudden, the charm was broken, and his head grew confused and giddy as one awaking from some frightfully entrancing dream; and a long, cold thrill that quivered over him, as he drew a relieved breath, told him the spell was broken, while as by magic, Crystel’s fine, sweet face rose before him. The contrast served to complete the thankful- ness of his escape, and when he turned his face toward Undine again, it was fairly radiant with the new-born thoughts. It was as if after the weakness follwing a consuming fever he had grown strong again, ~ Tam grieved if there has arisen any misun- derstanding between Miss Del Rose and Mr. Temple. Ifearlamdetrop. I beg you béth will permit me to retire, while you amicably re- store each other to favor.” Undine’s bright vs had watched every mo- tion of his lips, while Temple was watching her, There was no love in his glances, and had Mrs. St. Havens seen him, she would have realized all she strove to explain to Undine, ‘‘ You are not intruding, sir. And since Mr. Temple chooses to utter language more elegant than truthful, permit me to remark, more for- cibly than courteous, that your society is pref- erable to Mr. oes rade " Her eyes flashed back their dark defiance at Clifford, who bowed as she concluded. ‘«Then I will at once retire. Perhaps we will see you at dinner, Haighte?’ e turned to Bertrand. “T must also bid Miss Del Rose adieu, as I . leave the city in an hour or so for.The Tow- — ers. ” . sudden dusky hue crept over her face, but restrained the words that were forming on er lips; * “ He dare not go without keeping his appoint- ment,” she thought; and secure in that thought, she bade the gentlemen adieu, with a frosty bow to Temple, and a warm, passionful glance at Bertrand. At the window she watched them | down, her countenance, now that there were no | watchful eyes upon her, displaying all the wild | workings of a heart fired ‘an: eqnally violent love and hate, : OE “‘ How dare he do it! The cowardly villain, to bring him here, and then to my face tell me | of it! But you are thwarted, Clifford Temple! He whom I love I have blinded; he will be deaf to your stories—your truths, I may say when no one hears. Do your very worst, sir! I def you! and not all the powers of earth or air shall deter me from being the bride of Bertrand Haighte!” She clenched her fist after the retreating form of Temple. “ He'll come = and when he asks me to be his bride I'll tell him yes—that the old fam- ily record need not be regarded in our case; that in marrying me the ban is removed! And then. ee = ye an early day; and then ee ae ve oer emple, Crystel Roscoe, or She snapped her pretty fingers, and then went down to dinner, CHAPTER IX. GLORIOUS LIGHT, TuHaT night, while Undine Del Rose sat wait- ing for her lover, he and his mother, with Lur- line and Gussie, were gathered around their dining-table at The Towers, chatting over the incidents of the journey. Lurline’s face was resplendent with the joy that sat upon it, for Clifford Temple had re- quested permission to visit her in the sueceedin week; and Bertrand had told her what Cliffor had told him as they left Undine, that, although he had been engaged to Miss Del Rose, she had dissolved it by her actions, and he should for- mally return her her freedom at the earliest possible moment. Bertrand seemed more joyous than he had been for several days; one reason was, the re- moval of the ee that he was unable to oan another, and better reason, was, he had decided, after mature deliberation, to follow Hellice Roscoe’s advice, and lay before his mother the entire story. If the tradition were true, the curse that en- sued for acquainting the females of the Haightes with the family legend, then his mother would never live to see the sun rise again; instant VEREEANCS would seize the recipient of the se- cret. Bertrand was somewhat superstitious; he dearly loved his proud lady mother, and the struggle was a bitter one. : On the other side was Hellice’s advice; the asori gh of a greater joy—the restoration of rystel, whom he loved with penitent affection, after his brief infatuation for Undine—than he dared imagine. The sisters had gone for a short promenade on the dusky lawn; Mrs. Haighte was busy with some fine linen she was enn trand, away back among the shadows, took this for his opportunity. _‘‘Mother,” he said, suddenly, ‘do you be- lieve in the old traditional legends that have been handed down from father to son for sev- eral generations?’ ‘I must confess I am skeptical on that point.” Some persons, I am aware, religiously cling to family superstitions; but it secms to me, in these enlightened days, they should be treated as they deserve, with contempt.” She little knew the ecstasy those words awoke roidering, and Ber-—

Page 15

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? in_his breast; he raised himself from the gay silken cushion, and strove to speak indifferently, while his heart was throbbing so madly. “T heard, once, of one of these out legends, that was sacredly preserved by the family, and as religiously kept from the daugh- ters and wives, on pain of sudden and immedi ate death.” Mrs. Haighte laughed; a mellow, natural mel- ody that seemed to send a thrill of unutterable bliss through Bertrand’s veins, ; “Well, my boy, being as I am a liver in this wonderful nineteenth century, I would not feel the least uneasiness if I were a member of that | Hf family, and by accident discovered Bertrand sprung from his sofa in excited | haste. “Bless you, mother mine, for those words. Then will you listen while I tell you my story?” en instant she grew grave, and ceased her work, ‘ “If you are in trouble, or in joy, my son, I am. your mother, who would die to hel you.” By viii pressed a loving kiss on her fore. “Then let me tell you.” He began at the beginning, telling her of Un- dine’s visit to Edenwilde; of the cabalistic words that stel was to use as a test; how he had recogni them as being the same as re- corded in the mysterious letter; how Cryste’ and he had been sundered thereby; how Undine had possession of the old family ring, and so on, until she was in full possession of all the facts. _ “Now, mother, you are doomed, if the tradi- tion be true,” Mrs. Haighte laughed assuringly. ‘T think I will pour your coffed as usual, to- morrow ee 2 my dear son. I am some- what surprised, [ must admit, that this story is sonewtome. Surely I would have heard of it before.” : “No,” he said, eagerly, ‘But then you re- member that it has been guarded as a most pro- found secret,” She looked seriously at Bertrand. ’ : “You really place confidence in this affair of the solemnly-mysterious letter and its charge?” . Bertrand could not help blushing under that earnest, questioning, half-sarcastic gaze. ‘‘T am fain toadmit that Ido. Else why per- ao Ly painful state of affairs between Crystel and I? “True. Tam sorry for what you have suf- fered, and my poor Crystel, who believes you an oracle, I am pleased that the noble-minded Hellice takes so sensible a view of it, while I am free to confess, Bertrand, that I am a little mortified that you, a Haighte, are so easily im- pressed by a ped-up story of a girl with pretty eyes.” ' Bertrand could not say a word in his defense; be after ples silence, ne seemed suddenly ve solved a puzzling point, “But the letter, mother, subscribed by all the aightes since Lord Oscar? and the yellow, ae Se ere and the very words that Undine oke “Perhaps I can assist in solving all that. sons of the | sitting in her dressing-room that di 15 Bertrand, you never knew your father was in- sano the last six months of his life. We kept it from- every one but the attending physician, who can testify to the truth of my assertion. It is more than likely that he, who was, ‘ike yourself, of a superstitious, romantic turn, has prepared that manuscript, with all the cunning of insanity, in moments when he was sufficient- ly sane to remember his prevailing characteris- tics, As to the paper, there still remain quires, that Lord Oscar brought from over the water: it is in the secretary in your father’s study, where he spent most 3 a time. The a- tures may, or may no good fao-similes ; how shoal you know? The jewel that has been seen on this adventuress girl’s hand is the only deplorable thing in the -whole affair, I am sor “- it is not in our possession, i upon it, 16 — 7 has been stolen, and by this girl, who, I plainly see, wants you to m her. Further, perhaps you will find that the manuscript has also dis- appeared, together with the ring, and the same person has taken both. The executor may have mentioned the affair to some one, by which it reached her ears, She obtained the letter; after that, what is easier than to work upon a mind in- clined toregard every thing as mysterious. Once more, Bertrand, why. if you werenever to marry on account of this Florian,’ has this girl taken such pains to win you?” Mrs. Haighte paused after this long speech; and Bertrand seized her hand in a rapture of de- _ light. il ‘**My mother, you are simply perfect! No lawyer could have elucidated a case so Lear satisfactorily and naturally as you have ie You havé convinced me, mother; you have | shamed me with your noble, sensible view of this affair, and I will bless Shar = the day of my . death; Iand my darling ‘7 have only shown you what you could not see alone. There needs but one proof; if I could see the letter I would at once ize your father’s writing. However, you n not wait until we find it before you seek Crystel and tell her the story as you have told me, If I survive the curse,” she smiled as she said it, *‘and you see me at breakfast, you can ride to Edenwilde ° and every t ing anew, ish boy, kiss me good-night, and let me go to decide er oa misery or happiness.” Bertrand kissed her reverently ; to the corner window of the library to wes the light in Crystel’s window. te CHAPTER X. PREPARATIONS, Now, my fool- then he went A CrysteL Roscor, in her white cashmere — morning wrapper, with its facings of orange satin, and buttons of inlaid gold and earl was cloudy November day, while Hellice, cheery and brave amid the storm of grief that had burst upon her timid sister, was arranging fairy white bows and rosettes of gossamer ribbons. “See, what can be prettier for the flowers? — So fleecy and feathery.” Crystal turned her eyes away from the basket terials. ei a of mai rey ee

Page 16

F=8 * 16 WiLL SHE MARRY HIM} It hurts me more thanif Bertrand were dead to see you persistently going on preparing for a bridal that never can be.” Hot tears came stealing through the closed . lashes, and her lips were tog *t Tt seems such a mockery, Hellice. ‘‘'That’s all nonsense! Truly, Crystel, do you think for a moment I would cause you pain? Would I, a woman of my years, prepare for a wedding I felt never would occur? No, my sister, you know me better. I make these bridal favors because I know they will be needed on the twentieth of November, just as we ex- pected they would be.” She cast a bright a Homo glance at Crys- tel; but her was turned from the glittering array. « Do you know why Iam so confident, Crys- tel, deart Because, when I am once convinced that Bertrand will not seek counsel from his mother, I shall tellher myself all I know, and thus secure aid in unraveling this affair.” ‘‘And maybe— Oh, Hellice, am I dreaming? is that not him coming upthe avenue? Te me, or am I going i i Crystel’s languor had turned to wild excite- ment. Shesprung to the window, and s gazing at Bertrand, as he gallo up to the ouse, waving his handkerchief, his handsome face all alight with the good news he brought. “Of course it’s Bertrand, and, my word for it, che comes to clear up all this mystery. Crystel, gee don’t cry so!” Yet she was thankful she did weep, and Ber- trand sprung through the French window in a tumult of arabes e excitement. ““Crystel! Crystel! it’s all right! thank God! I’ve only been the victim of a joke that has all been explained.” Then, when he could calm himself down, he related the story to them, while Hellice worked away at the bridal favors, and Crystel sat watching her lover, her sweet face momentari- ly losing its pitiful sadness, and rapidly grow- pen anand and fair as before this sudden, short uble. ‘So I had better finish the bridal favors, _ Crystel? And here, Bertrand, I am going to pin one to your coat, to be your talisman against future danger.” d then, when, with exquisite delicacy, Hellice made anerrand for more white ribbon. Bertrand took Crystel’s head on his breast, and with her eyes reading his face, confessed what he had not told before Hellice; all his mad, wicked infatuation for the dark-eyed girl, whose consummate arts and bold adventure, they fully believed had wrought all the mischief. : And when he besought her pardon, she kissed him, and t him as ever. : So the cloud, that seemed so dense it never could blow over, had ai gpk as suddenly as it came; and joy reigned supreme at Eden- wilde and The All that bright, cool Friday evening, Undine Del Rose sat in Mrs. St. Havens’s elegant par- lors, waiting and wondering; now sure Bertrand te would be there the next moment; now and doubting, lest Clifford Temple had m away from her. owers. troub succeeded in turning | of Bertrand She had looked forward to this evening all through the day, as the time that was so tri- umphantly to crown all her endeavors, and now, when the on was so near her thirsty lips, that Clifford Temple, of all men, the man she had been taught had a svenee: . secret power over her—the man she had love before she saw Bertrand, and whom she would again turn to, if by any dire fate she missed her chance of the heir of The Towers, to besuddenly and violently robbed of her lover, a she believed Bertrand to be, was almost mad- ening. She was sitting beside the register, when footsteps echoing on the marble-floored hall, caused her to listen, with a delicious flush at the thought that he had come at last. The door was thrown open by the footman; but it was not Bertrand, it was Clifford Temple. Undine arose haughtily. : eT beg to beexcused, sir, lam expecting com- eny. Clifford walked up to the marble mantle and leaned against it, watching the anger tide of color that ebbed and flowed under her clear in. ‘“‘T know you are waiting for Mr. Haighte; but, as he returned to The Towers by the eight o’clock train, he desired me toexcuse him. Un- dine, how dare you undertake this game?” He suddenly spoke with a commanding tone, “How dare you question me thus? If Mr. ighte has gone away, it is because you have been ae oe ‘Well, perhaps it wasmy fault; perhaps your own, in carrying your little game too far. Un- dine, you knew you were engaged to me when ou denied it to-day. Why did you tell Mr. aighte I was paying my addresses to Mrs. St. Havens, when you knew it was false?” ‘Because I hated you so; and—yes, I’m_ not ashamed to say it—cared so much for him. There, Clifford Temple, are you satisfied?” She sat, twisting her ringsaround and around, angry. mortified and wounded. “Tdo not seek any satisfaction. I did not call for the purpose of angering you, but merely te warn you against prosecuting your plans further. Because, Undine, Bertrand Haighte soa} ag home to marry his sweetheart at Eden- e. Undine sprung from her chair like a tigress. “That's false. He never shall marry her, so help me Heaven! You think to taunt me into a reconciliation with yourself!” “Not atall, I hereby release you from your engagement to me; and with my withdrawal, you may be pleased to learn that I shall transfer my addresses to Miss Lurline Haighte.” A sudden pallor crept to the corners of her lips. Both gone!—no! she would rally yet! She bowed sarcastically. “Thank you most warmly. Present my com- pliments to the lady, also my condolences.” be ie 3 pas oer ee ae never saw the lous phase our char- acter before, Undine” Her cheeks flamed instantly. “Then you see it now; not of you, sir, but of one worthy ofit, When yousce me the bride aighte you will agree with me,”

Page 17

—Ss. — . A aCe aaa rah cig tora walked up to her gravely, not un- “Undine, I will again warn you not to con- ue this wild, wicked chase for a man you _ Rever can marry. _Yes, Undine, were he heart- free to-day, and begged you to be his bride, I Would see you laid in your coffin before you should marry him. Beiter that you died this hour than cherish a love for him’ longer. . Un- dine, we have been lovers; I hope we are friends; therefore, take warning by my words—by Mrs. t. Havens’s words; and believe me, that, sooner than see you standing beside him at the altar, I would take your life, and go down to my own grave with the stain of your heart’s blood on my hands. That would be a mission of merey to you and him.” Despite her raging anger, Undine listened, and wondered what ta meant, When she had gone to Crystel Roscoe, and told her almost the same story, she had not Fauea the bewildered girl; now, when Clifford emple was warning her, she began to under- stand dimly how Crystel had felt; and yet a wounded anger was uppermost in her heayt, and a burning thirst for the accomplishment of her aims, be their result what it might be. She said not a word when he had finished, but answered him by a cold bow, and an ominous gleaming of her black eyes. After he had gone, she saw the wedding cards he had accidentally forgotten. Her whole figure shook as if swept by a tor- nado, as she held the pure white syr.bols of happiness in her hand, and her eyes seemed like a concentrated blaze of hidden fire as she read that the marriage between her only idol and Crystel Roscoe would occur on the twentieth of November, at Edenwilde, at (%) o’clock,P. M. “And this is the end! this the sight I see, at I should have heard his lips call me She tore the cards into fragments with a sav- age satisfaction; then stamped on them, in the uncontrollable fit of passion that had smitten her with its fiery hand. : ‘into the ivpeeon hours she sat there; and then, as the little cuckoo clock chimed three, she arose from her low chair and sought her room, “To-day is the last of October; I have a little time left me yet. We shall see how this ends, after all!” ; In her room, just as the first faint sounds of life were breaking, she was handed a tele aph ispatch; and a fierce, ominous, yet: withal tri- umphant delight shone in her eyes as she read: “Annette Willoughby is wanted—sickness,” It was addressed to her own name, _— —__., CHAPTER Xt. PREPARING FOR THE BLOW, Hatry-way between The Towers and Eden- wilde, on the same side of the river as the Ros- Coe estate, and standing a considerable distance from the main road, was the cosey, humble cot- tage of the Halls; the family of whom a trivial mention has been made in the preceding chap- WILL SHE MARRY HIM? 17 ter; the place Undine Del Rose had visited the day of her call upon Crystel Roscoe and Ber- trand Haighte. © Bde » It was rather a protty place, with tall trees hiding it from view, and a faint glimmer of the river visible from its u windows; a pleas- ant home for the small family who lived there. They were but three in number. The hus- band, Jacob Hall, who was gardener at Eden- wilde; his wife, wee ae noeshevuee at Eden- wilde sometimes employed on ex occasions; and Lida, their pe the pie Ls aes Hall’s brother, a young woman of twenty, who was Crystel’s sicasiipaiaid. who had been in that capacity a long time. She was not & good-look- ing girl, and had it not been for the faithfulness with which she attended to her duties, she never would have remained at Edenwilde so long as she had : Her recommendations, coming as they had, together with her aunt’s and _uncle’s, from a . Haighte’s, had been greatly in friend of Mrs her favor; and so, in spite of her homely face, with its keen, sullen black eyes, and the heavy, overshadowing hair, that made her so ugly, she stayed on, year after year, and her mistress be- came accustomed to her looks ge, It was Lida Hall that Undine Del Rose had mentioned to Mrs, St. Havens; Lida, who had years before worked for Mrs. Tem le, who had recommended the family to Mrs. Haighte. In those early days, when Undine visited often at the Temples’, when she and Lida and Clifford had not yet been fettered by the cour- tesies of a fashion that in later years forbade a son and daughter of wealth and aristocracy as- sociating with a maid of no name, dee Tompios had played together in Mrs. Ju Temple’s carriage-house, and built houses of kindling- woo.J, glad to escape the fine dresses and costly toys awaiting them in the parlor. etween Undine and Lida bad always existed a friendship, although Clifford had completely - forgotten her; and, despite the difference in their position, Undine had several times gone to see her, with no particularreason therefor until the last two times; and then, in the lottings she had instituted, her far-seeing eyes dis- cerned the fact that of all allies, of all confi- dantes, there was none on the earth so adapted, both by nature—for she had, with her astute receptions, long ago read Lida Hall’s disposi- ion, which, being not unlike her own in some points, may explain their cold, calm friendship z-and acquaintance as Lida Hall, The position she ee the Roscoe house- hold was — lendid toward the further- ance of her plans; her frequent errands to The Towers was another satisfactory condition. It had been in September, on one of Undine’s visits—calls rather—at the Hall cottage, that she had seen Bertrand aaighte, in all his at- tractiveness and elegance, as he and Crystel had ridden along the road. To one of her disposition, it was enough mere- ly to see him; and despite her existi ment with Mr. Temple, she made up on the moment that she admired him Bde Then she thought of him, waking and until at last she resolved to win him, It seemed, perhaps, a most absurd and impos-

Page 18

“wae Se aw SS eee !LD!l!llee ee ee ‘had gone to Edenwilde. 18 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? sible idea; and to persons of ordinary contep- tions, it doubtless would have been. But Un- dine Del Rose was a woman of no common in- tellect; one, had it been trained in a noble, high- principled channel, would have made her a rare, glorious specimen of womanhood, There- fore, the more impassable the barriers, the more determined she became to surmount them; un- til, her whole soul fired with love for Bertrand Haighte, and a consequent natural hatred for Crystel Roscoe, she schemed and planned and arranged her mode of. procedure. Several weeks previous to the day when she , She had, on a day’s visit at the Riverside Lodge—so Lida had named the unpretentious little four-room cott been in- vited by Lida to over to The Towers with her, on an errand for Miss Hellice to Mrs. Haighte’s housekeeper, for a recipe or some- accepted the invitation, knowing that, as Bertrand was over at Eden- e could, olga prevail on the house- er through the house; some- ns, Her dress was as simple, apparently, as Lida’s own; and in the plain brown silk traveling dress, with a large water-proof of Mrs. Hall’s around her, and her hair, for a rarity, fastened in a coil, and a brown vail doubled over her face and hands, she truly concluded that if, by acci- dent, she met Bertrand or any one else, they never would recognize her in after times when she might come boldly to The Towers in her new personnel. Certainly Undine Del Rose was audaciously presumptive; but it was both her presumption and audacity that should help to carry her ee this campaign against Crystel Roscoe’s iness, da introduced her with all formality to the rtly housekeeper, Mrs. Bowen; but her ears misled her. “Yes, I am pleased to meet your friend, Miss Rose. on’t you walk up to the dining-room, Lida? My receipts are all there.” Undine’s heart swelled with joy at the acci- dental misunderstanding. “Tt’s Fate in my favor already,” she had whispered to herself. “Te you could spare the time, Mrs. Bowen, I would like to show this lady through the rooms,” “ And that’s just what I can’t do, atall. I’m sorry, but there’s all the maids gone to some | fan meio or other down to York, and I’m awful | busy foldin’ up this linen.” | ‘*Perhaps you will trust me to show her through? You know me, Mrs. Bowen; P’ll be particular.” | The housekeeper deliberated a minute before she er | “Well, I don’t know asI care. Of course if | Miss Crystel trusts you among all her finery, I can where there’s nothing but heavy furniture. | Be careful now, Lidy, to lock all the doors n. _. &: fiery red had come in spots to Undine’s cheeks at the half-suspicion, but she could afford to conceal it. a Together they went through the elegant, spa- Ping a, enh while Undine noted every ob- j ey i At last, having entered the corridor, out of which the doors of the family a ee opened, Lida started to return to the dining- room, but Undine detained her. “You haven’t taken me in these yet.” She was pointing at Bertrand’s room door. ‘But those are strictly private; Mrs. Bowen might not like it. Itis Mr. Bertrand’s.” ** But let us go in—please, Lida,” “No, indeed, I can not—’ - be I tell you I am going in; give me the eys. he was very calm, but Lida knew, of old, that red light in her eyes, as she took the keys from her hand. ~ a want you to come in. I want you partic- y: And Lida followed her into Bertrand Haighte’s sleeping apartment. Undine gazed around, her eyes growing ten- der as they rested on the lace-ruffled pillow where his head had rested; and with a soft, fleet step she stole up to the low rosewood bed- resi and pressed a kiss on the unconscious en. “Undine!” Lida called her name, half-angered, half- am “Yes, it is because I love him so, Now, Lida Hall, I want youto swear to me to keep a secret for me. Will you do it?” And then, standing in the very room where Bertrand had dreamed of Crystel so many times, Undine told Lida Hall her loye; her hopes; her resolves; her plans. ‘ And now, Hall, I want you to aid me in my work. 1 will direct youin all things; you need have no mind of your own. Only be — by me, and success will crown us both. bey, and the day you call me Mrs. ss ese HA will give you a check for a thousand dollars; refuse, Lida Hall, and ay lips shall disclose the secret of your life that I hold! You know of the child found choked to death; so dol. You know its mother, also its murderess? So do I. Now, Lida, which shall it be?’ The girl’s face had changed to a dull, ashy pallor, as she looked up in Undine’s pitiless, pas- sionate eyes. Then she arose from the footstool and went up to Undine, “There can be no alternative. But I ask, is there blood to be shed? If so, you may kill me at your feet first.” “ You committed murder once; are you soft- hearted now? But for your comfort—no, I do not think of any such desperate measures. Lis- ten, let me tell you.” F ~ she ee her, in full bag what must be one, In a OW, eager voice, that sent creepin — down the Hoteliers back ; ce _ ou seem surprised that I have obtained this knowledge; but I tell you, Lida, I believe Satan himself has aided me. Some day I will tell you where I learned what to do; the next thing is to obtain possession of these papers.” Lida went slowly after Undine down the stairs; on the landing she turned. ‘ '

Page 19

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? 19 ‘*-You go first, and don’t forget what you are to do.” Then they went home, and in the gathering dusk, where no one ever met her, Undine went back to the city. One month later she had returned; and Lida Hall met her with a parcel. “T did not do as you directed, but have ac- complished what you bade me do.” ** Not as I said?” “Fate planned it better. Mrs. Bowen has been sick of diphtheria, and is just recovering— is still only convalescing. There was no one to nurse her, the girls being away on their vaca- tion; my aunt is‘also on a visit, and Miss Crys- tel offered my services. I had the house to Fe 1 nag tter chance could have been of- Undine stood, with wide eyes listening, a tri- umphant smile irradiating her face, as she clutched the papers. “Twas so afraid Lawyer Allan was wrong; Ihave promised him five hundred dollars for his disclosure of the stronghold of this docu- ment. How little the Haightes dream of the parnay. of their talented, fashionable execu- r Lina leaned her head wearily on her hands, while Undine was greedily running over the faded papers, and still holding a ring between her fingers. “Tt is strange you found this, too. I heard lawyer Allan say it had not been seen for years,” “It is because I searched the old secretary so thoroughly, I suppose. 1 must go lie down, Un- dine, I feel so wretched.” And her flushed face denoted her feelings. Sg aie are getting the diphthe—good Heavens, a, what if my all-powerful star is in the ascendancy? You take this disease from cna pas F basi. our ildee as Orystel Ros- a, Lho the di htheria “) pe, 4 pray you may have ittle horrified cry broke from Lida’s li “Not that it will make any difference an all to my plans, for you know I intended becoming a member of the Roscoe family by some means or other; only this is all so natural, so unex- . emember, I shall return by to-mor- Ww night in answer to a telegram from you to Annette Willoughby—you will remember that name, because your baby was to be named that In case it had lived. Whatever m dlegaine Y no surprise; and satisfy the Halls t at I am a sister of Joe Willoughby, your lover. ou understand, Lida? Remember to propose He immediately to Miss Roscoe. And now, ; oping to find you ill when I return in answer 0 a telegram, I will go directly home, to pre- pare my costume for this delightful bal masque,” ith a low, heart-sick sigh, Lida Hall patched her away, as she bastenta down the Oncly roadside to the station. her re Undine hired a horse; and, arranging dhs Slightly-disheveled toilet by the little atered oo in the ladies’ saloon, she sinetacont to Edgiviide, on her mission of m thence to The Towers, and then home Well Satisfied as to her success, But at home the days wore on, and there came no telegram from Lida Hall; she wondered what it meant; she knew she dared not play her false. And then, when Bertrand Haighte had visited her, she had felt so glad she was home ‘to ré- ceive him; after, when Clifford Temple had di- — vulged her falsity to him, she determined to go to Lida and learn why she had been silent. Then had come the summons; and, after writ- ing a note to Mrs. St. Havens, stating that she had received an urgent message from a sick schoolmate in Boston, and did not know but that she might remain several weeks, she started on her career. CHAPTER XII. WHAT WAS DONE. Ir was true; Lida Hall was illof diphtheria—- dangerously ill; and because of the nearness of her wedding, Crystel Roscoe had availed herself of Lida’s offer to send for Annette Willoughby. Mrs. Hall had herself carried the message the office, and afterward iy her own counsel, at Lida’s suggestion, who told her that if Miss Crystel knew that Annette was in Bay way acquainted with Miss Del Rose, she might not employ her after the affairs so well known to the family had transpired. Then the knowledge of Undine’s visits had been kept quite still, at Undine’s own request, long before this existing state of affairs; be- cause her pride revolted from the idea of it be- ing known that she visited a common servant. Therefore no suspicion existed at all; and even Mrs. Hall had not the first distant idea but that Annette Willoughby was merely recommended by Miss Del Rose. “The affair of her niece with Joe Hama tp hae age page to her, ee ing occurred while Lida was a year away a Tprell in the factories, while Undine had 4 at a Massachusetts school, and to whom Lida had applied for money and aid. MED Thus Undine’s tracks were covered pple: ly; and she presented herself, not an ill-. woman, wit : od | on her forehead, and over it alace me jaunty and rather pretty. She had pes a long, narrow strip of black const across her cheek, between the lips and chin; her complexion was very dark, and a little sallow. . A pair of blue glasses she asked perigee to wear, saying she had been employed on. fine embroidery so long that she could not, bear the light yet, but hoped to leave them off in a few weeks. Tender-hearted Crystel told her it made not the sligktest difference; hired her on Lida’s Rot orrans ea and went on preparing for the weddin . Snany ected, frosty and quiet it dawned, and Crystel drew aside the lace curtains and eal abroad upon beautiful Edenwilde, she wondered if ever bride went forth from a fairer spot, Oi tak off, with the ent faint ge Hudson be- tween, were the rugged brown walls of . the stately Towers, surrounded by the tall We and lying against the sloping Highlands that stretched up to the intense blue sky as if seek- e oking her light, flossy hair combed low

Page 20

ete penetrate the happiness stored up for tie ri e. That was a blissful hour Crystel spent in sweet communion with her maiden heart, alone with nature, on the morning of her wedding- day. There did not seem the tiniest cloud on her horizon; and even when she thought of the fascinating stranger and her ominous warning. she calmly smiled, then whispered her psalm o: Peale that she had passed through the trial jitter though it was; for she loved Bertrand better than ever. All the morning was the delightful bustle of preparation; Hellice moved hither and thither, gui i § and directing all the pening, while rystel, alone of them all, the most deeply con- cerned, sat wrapt in a delicious, idle, dreamy reverie. With the noon train the guests began to ar rive, and the spacious mansion was a scene of merry pleasantry. '_ Later, after an informal lunch, came an early dinner; then the grand preparations for the ceremony that was to occur at the hour of eight, to be immediately followed by the departure of the married couple for the city, where they took an early morning steamer for Boston. ~It was a few minutes past six when, complete in her wedding attire, Crystel ney dis- missed her sister and Bertrand, who had been eagerly watching the Na of pest of the toilet, and assisting the stg as her vail and wreath were being adjusted. Now Crystel had begged them to leave her, and with a kissand a whisper, Bertrand went away with Hellice. ; that hour the Mb say were gathering in the saloon; a delightfully joyous noise filled the mansion, yet still the door of Crystel’s room re- mained locked. At pg eight, General Ros- coe tapped, while directly after him, in regular order, the bridemaids; at the foot of the ao Bertrand, with his groomsmen, awaited party. A second elapsed, and then the door was opened, and she came out, her vail drooping lowly over her elegant sunny-gold hair, her eyes cast down, even though her vail covered her face. She was pale as marble, but that was owing to excitement partly. She carried her filmy lace handkerchief in one white-gloved hand; and a tiny bouquetin the other. General Roscoe gave her his arm with all the gallantry of a man of thirty. “We are waiting for you,my dear. The bishop came a quarter of anhourago. Onekiss m little Crystel Roscoe, for the last time.” He lightly touched her forehead, without raising the cloud of lace, and then they went down. At.the foot of the staircase Bertrand took her from General Roscoe,and they promenaded slow- ly through the long, dim parlors that looked « like fairy-land in its sopra dusky gloom— Crystel had wanted it so, fearing lest she should be nervous with a half-hundre “sapiy of eyes watching her in a full glare of light. She gent- ly pressed his arm, and he bent on her a glance of rest affection as they took their places on the floor—to be married; and in after days eye shivered with horror as he remem- i .. She dashed through the WILL SHE MARRY HIM! The ceremony began; it ended, and Bertrand turned to kiss his bride. “ My wife, my darling wife!” She trembled just a second, then threw up her vail, and, stepping forward, looked defiantly around. Bertrand almost screamed. ‘Good God, what does this mean? Undine Del Rose !” A sudden rush forward of the guests; a mur- mur among them, as of an angry surge. Hel- lice sprung forward with a deathly pale face. * Where’s my sister, woman? how dare you, how dare you! ests, her long silken dress trailing after her, her sister’s room; while Bertrand and General Roscoe stood like men turned to statues. Then the bridegroom aroused from the stupor he had been momen wily suffering, and ad- vanced to Undine, who, calm, pale and collected, stood her well-won ground. “Woman! fiend! you shall answer for this! General, let us 50 to Crystel, the poor darling— hold, where is she?” “Tn her room,” she returned, calmly. The men tothe door, whither half of- the goede had rushed to learn of Crystel, when sud enly General Roscoe turned about. m’t let her go—ah, by Heavens, she has disappeared!” It was even so; and on the carpet lay the vail and long shiny locks of golden hair. For a second, a silence, ap tape a fearful intense- ness, reigned ; then General Roscoe sprung to an open French window. ‘* She has gone through this, the demoness!” It seemed true, for a fragment of white satin was clinging toa jagged point in the iron bal- cony. CHAPTER XIII. AFTER THE BRIDAL, Hew1ice, closely followed by Bertrand and General Roscoe, had hurried up the stairs to the door of Crystel’s room; it was unlocked, and they rushed in, fearing, wondering what they should see. And then, when Hellice had reached midw: the room, aloud scream burst from her lips, aa rigid as marble, with the blood curdling roun her heart, she met her sister, coming up through brea distance of the long suit, so pale, so pitifu “Tam so bewildered, sister! where have I been? where is Bertrand?’ She passed her hand over her forehead in a gesture of painful self-inquiry. ' And jast at that oe the startled mem- bers of the househo - headed by General Ros- coe and Bertrand, followed by a number of the guests, entered the room to discover the cause of the shrieks that had awakened them. General Roscoe suddenly paused in his hasty entrance, as his eyes fell on his youngest daugh- ter’s fi ; and a silence of fear and awe fell on sick ; 2 Silence that Crystel was the first to reak. “Oh, father, won't you tell me what it means? T surely have not been ill, have I? or how else came my hair short?”

Page 21

WILL SHE MARRY HIM} 21 And then General Roscoe caught her m his arms, and the eet seemed lifted off them all. “‘ My child, what does it mean? Where did bes leave Bertrand—how came this splendid air shorn so closely?” “Oh, Bertrand! where has he gone? why doesn’t he come and see if I am ready for the wedding? It seems asif I was all dressed once, and waiting for you totapon the door. I know I felt very faint all at once—I suppose it has only been a dream.” ._ _A dream!” thundered the General, “ it is an infernal game! Crystel, my child, you have not been married to Bertrand Haighte! The ceremony was performed, but between him and another—oh, God! we can’t see through this Crystel, my daughter, Bertrand has married some one else! but it shall all be made right.” She stood like a statue of marble. “‘ Some—one—else?” Slowly the words dropped from her lips. Then Hellice, with her quick returning fore- sight, stoodup and spoke quietly and convinc- ingly. e tt has been a plot; I think I comprehend at least a portion of it. Bertrand, will you at- tend Crystel to another room? and_ see that John goes immediately after Dr. Bellanger? I will write to have the woman arrested.” But Bertrand could speak no words of cheerin assurance to his love; for, when Hellice turn toward him, they all saw that he had fainted just-as he had ascended the stairs. Several hours later, when Bertrand had aroused from the deadly swoon, he explained, as best’ he could, the probable reason for the strange affair. Afterward, so soon as the ex- citement subsided, the guests retired to their rooms, while Clifford Temple, pale and speech- less from the supreme horror of the occasion, ce up and down the front piazza till the gray wn. Up-stairs, in Crystel’s room, Annette Wil- loughby was sitting in the gloom, watching her mistress as she slept, and listening to the measured tread below that she knew s0 well. The next morning she wrote a short note, and this was its contents: “Mr, SAMUEL GREENLEAF: “Please direct and drop the inclosed letter in the box, and oblige, A. W.” _The “inclosed” was a letter directed in cipher, ““Kor “en? sweetheart, eh, Annie?” the letter man had said, when she gave it to him; and she laughed and sim ; But several hours later Lawyer Allan in- guines at Station C if there was a letter there or his coachman, Samuel Greenleaf; and then, an hour later still, he mailed the ‘‘inclosed” at another station; and when he had translated it, in accordance with the cipher he had been in- structed with, by Undine Del Rose, it read: “Bertrand Haighte, The Towers.” And Lawyer Allan rubbed his hands, and thought not only of the fat fees Miss Del Rose paid, not of his own consummate perfidy and Uenee to the Hai ni favs = the splendid rotiliesd consider him, in a mat- rimonial view, yee At midday, Bertrand received nis letter, and this was what it said: i “Tf you want to be righted, come to the Oriental Hotel to-day, at four P. M. UNDINE.” That afternoon, Annette had gone into her mistress’s room just after midday. “Could you spare me till dinner to-day, Miss Crystel? [have an errand in Brooklyn that’s very particular.” . She went down to New York on the three o’clock train; purchased a walking suit complete at Mme. Oliphant’s establishment, and then, still in her disguise, went to the hotel. Once in the room she had asked for, she care- fully removed all traces of Annette Willough- by, then called the waiter and bade him show Me. Haighte—whom the man knew well—to her. Then she sat down and waited. CHAPTER XIV. A STORMY INTERVIEW. SHE had not long to wait; for, on the stroke of the hour, Bertrand Haighte opened the door; pale, frigid, angered. “Tam here, Undine Del Rose.” He never bowed, or otherwise acknowledged _ her Po “No. I am Undine Del Rose no longer. I have the honor of being Mrs. Haighte, of The Towers. Oh, Bertrand! Bertrand!” and her tones lost their slight touch of sarcastic tri- | umph, and sunk to aloe eae murmur, * don’t quite hate me and that is my love for you. Nothing else would have warranted the awful risk I have run. And see, Bertrand, Providence has sig- nally favored me, for not even you read my. identity.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, and looked up in his face, as white as death, with eyes that yy have annihilated her, had that been pos- s81Dle. 3 ave but one excuse, He dashed her off with a gesture of ineffable - ices Were ae ae on uch me! don’t mention name of the Almighty with those tales: inn lips! Say rather that Satan and all his angels have aided you in this fiendish scheme! we man—tell me how you dared do it; tell me, be- fore I crush all your life out of 4 P : He advanced a steptoward ier hie hot breath. flaming on her cheeks. y ‘‘ Bertrand, be reasonable. Remember, J am bride, married to you by ev law that. gy y ery hile T he land demands. Listen, ‘ humble myself to you, and beg and pray you to love me a—” ‘Silence! not a word of such blasph from your lips! I command you, tell me what you mean—the woman I hate and abhor! the wo- man who shall never be my wife, despite all your infernal machinations.” Undine smiled defiantly. ‘And suppose I refuse to listen to your de- mand?” ‘Then I will wrench itfrom you! What did you do to my betrothed?” i ‘¢ A strange question for a husband to ask his wife!” ‘ ‘You madden me! J youRhusband? Never. el on Se

Page 22

22 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? if you were the last woman on God’s earth. You, the arch fiendess, my wife? who has crush- ed my happiness the second time? Not if I could narehy earn your eternal salvation!” “T am sorry you persist in this style of lan- . Bertrand, doesn’t it move you in the aaah wien you know what I have to do for your sake?” 7 ced to and fro while she was speaking; C) then he stopped before her. é “Does if move me? Yes, with infinite pity and tenderness when I think of my crushed Crystel; moved to scorn and disgust when I look at you, with all the beauty you have used to cover your wickedness.” ‘¢ You thought and spoke differently the even- ing you spent in Lexington ayenue; the morn- ing we rode in the Central Park.” A blush of angry shame flooded his face. “Tf I was infatuated then, I am disenchanted now! Ithank God you have no legal claim on me now!” She ong dee lightly. : It Ihave.. Are we not lawfully mar- ried? ; “Married?” He fairly thundered the word. ‘Never will I admit it! Before the whole world I will proclaim your treachery!” She extended her hand, on which glittered the curious green-and-searlet-veined jewel. ‘You do not regard this? You are no longer afraid of it?” He gra her slender wrist, and tore the ring from her finger. ‘“ Should I fear an impostor, a thief, as I be- lieve you to be? or a ring that is my own, and that never wrought me any harm?” A sudden, intense light shot from her eyes, and she compressed her lips a moment before she answered. ‘Tt may never yet have wrought harm, butI swear that it shall. Now, Bertrand Haighte, what are we to do?’ He curled his lips contemptuously. “T neither care to know, or feel at all inter- ested in your future movements, J shall take the first train to Edenwilde, and further expose this treachery. And if harm comes to Crystel Roscoe, woe to you!” He never vouchsafed her a glance as he went out, and as the door closed after him, his part- ing wi ec. on her ear: * Woe to you !” Was it a curse or a prophecy? And so far, her ‘deeply-plotted plans, her superhuman effort that had been so tantalizingly crowned with ’ success, had come to this! She walked up and down and around that elegant room; while, like a keen poniard at her heart, was the bitter, unendurable anguish of the knowledge that he did not love her—never would love her. She sank down, exhausted, on one of the sofas, cursing the luckless fate that had lured her on to fondly hope and believe he would for- et Crystel Roscoe, his first love, the moment — © saw her. ' “T have been worse than mad! I have been too hasty; I have thwarted what long-suffering patience might have accomplished. And now, “now he despises me; while I—oh, I shall die for the want of his love|” Nee 5 | floss ane she had worn from J A look of unutterable despair came over her ace ‘‘And while Pye been engaged, heart and soul, in seeking to win this man; while I crazed my brains in scheming, planning and contriv- ing, I’ve lost the other, who, before I saw Ber- trand Haighte, I loved as I thought I never could love again. Clifford bo 2 has passed beyond my reach; these accursed Haightes have won him, too! And J, Jam alone, unloved. de- spised! I can not bear it; I will die! My brain is scorching, and my heart—my poor, trampled heart—that is broken and bleeding!” And all that long, dreary night she sat there; and the fire burned itself away to a handful o ghostly ashes; the light was turned down by some one below as the day came on. In the cold, gray dawn of that winter’s morn- ing, shivering and numb, she still sat on; the sta began to go rattling by; the hum and bustle of a waking city grew gradually louder, and yet Undine never moved from her posi- tion. After an hour or.so, the chambermaid tapped for admission; that aroused her, and she called to her to come in an hour. She was fearfully changed, and a faint wi of horror issued from hey blue lips as she looked at herself in the mirror. ‘ ah cares fall on him forever, who has wrought Her eyes had seemed to freeze; from a warm, a Pee light in their dark depths the turned to a hard, steely blackness, with neither soul or expression in them; around her mouth were deep tense lines, that forty years of life would hardly have draw there, But worse than all, and so_ horrible it was that she gazed at it in a bewildered, frightened stare, was her long, thick hair, that, when she entered that room was black as a raven’s wing, and now hung in yellow-white luxuriousness over her shoulders, She felt herself wrecked; wrecked in appear- ance, as well as in heart, and, with the sight of her ruin, fled the last vestige of life in the pas- sionate love for Bertrand Haighte, which she had been all the night through killing. With clenched fists, she gazed back into her dull, deadened eyes. “ For this Pll make him rue the day! Iswore once to be his bride; I am his bride, and now I swear unsleeping vengeance against my hus- band! And before I see him in the arms of another—that fool he dared prefer above me— Tl lay him in his coffin, with myself, dead, | across it!” She deliberately arose and arranged her false. hair; her storm of ion was spent, and her hands were untrembling as she wound coil after coil around her shapely head; she adjusted the blue glasses, and then removed the black al- paca Ww ome This she did up ina bundle, and donned the Edenwilde; and he bride of a day went forth, husbandless, de- ised, alone; possessed of a fearful ae 4 that would not hesitate to strike any blow that would remove from her path the o ele that hindered her one object of the now lonely ex- istence. That object was—REVENGE!

Page 23

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? CHAPTER XV. DID SHE LOSE IT? If the family at Edenwildg were all up in arms about the strange events of the preced- Ingnight, the household at The Towers were in Menon state, particularly their guest, Clifford @. At first he could not ‘seem to comprehend it, 80 suddenly and mysteriously had it all hap-| pened; then, when the truth adually made it- self clear he started at once for the city. ou disposition. She will not give you up, so long as she has the faintest claim upon you,” he | said to Bertrand, as he eon for a moment at | Crystel and young | Edenwilde, where he foun aizhte in the parlor. rtrand was pacing the floor like a chained tiger, who cannot brook another instant’s con- | ement, “But, man, has she no delicacy thus to thrust herself upon me? Where is her womanhood that it does not cry out upon her?” emple’s answer wasa gloomy laugh. “Natures like hers know no reason when their will determines to attain to any re. bes I have known fie girl since she was a child, and I can say, with truth, she is the most passionate-tem- pered person I ever saw.” : ‘But a divorce can be obtained; ‘it is merely a question of time.” “ Yes, but you may depend upon it, that she will never leave you to yourself.” Crystel’s eyes grew bright with the anger in their sai: Undine Del Rose dare not cross his path again, Let her but attempt it, and I will find a way to remove her.” Bertrand smiled upon her. With so loving and brave a champion and vrotectress. what should I dread, Temple?” - I hope my words will prove an idle song. I fear— But let us not court such uncomfortable thoughts. There comes your maid with your shaw! ; the room seems chilly.” It was Annette, but no one noticed her. T shall have to bid you good-morning, Miss rales oe if I pat jertvand to the city, eve it is . i ee s for his own and your But, after they strangely at unrest, the ing room for an hour. u are nervous, sister; this drug you have taken, whatever it is, has unstrung i some- shad you not better lie down till Bertrand bi es Crystel went: 2 down-stairs at nace tiers ene Perhaps the gir] la . ; arose and dressed herself, =» minutes; then she ce, have you any commission f aee Towers? Iam gokng aaa ree a teed Miss Roscoe laid down her w. @nxiously at the flushed cheeks Hien _Earerk eyes. think or You are not well, Crystel, “Do you be you are strong enough to venture over ‘one? You had better let Pate go with you.” Hele? no, I'd rather go by myself. Besides ce, I am going to haye company home,” were gone, Crystel grew imow not this girl as well asI; nor her | She was assisted to dress by Annette, whom she had come to like in preference to Lida, who, though recovered from the throat disease, was still a victim toa light disagreeable fever. ‘ ‘You had better let me go too, Miss Crystel,” Annette asked, very solicitously. 12s “There is no need, indeed. If you want a turn in the warm sunshine, you can spend hour or so, till I get back, down at Lida’s.” “Yes, ma’am, I will, and much obliged.” So off went , her sister watching her from the window out of sight; then she turned, retraced her steps, and w: ked pete the depot, and bought a ticket for New York. and walked to and fro in| She had just reached the entrance-gate, when Annette locked tlie door, and hastily retired to | her own room; one she occupied alone, ‘‘ All the disguise I need will be to arrange | this gray hair of mine, and powder my face as white asI can. These heretofore tell-tale eyes | of mine have done their last mischief, curse | him!” And, indeed, in her plain, dark dress and | sacque, the puffs of gray hair, the dull lustrous | eyes, no one, not even Clifford Temple or Mrs, | St. Havens herself, would have known her. - She had plenty of time to get to the station; and b going down a side-entrance, she met no one of the family servants. “T wonder if my suspicions are correct? Could she bave gone to The Towers? or did I read her thoughts aright, and see her from her own win- - ' dow as she hastenéd back this way? At any rate, if she’s not at the depot—and what she pe going is more than even I can tell; however, she the power to watch her—asI said, if she’s not the depot, it’s easy coming home again.” Such were Annette’s thoughts as she hurried along. v5 At the window stood Crystel, softly tapping the glass with her kid-gloved fingers; then the train came rushing in. stel p. her hand naie, that she never deemed safe in a crowd out eg ors — gizg : saree ay nce in the train, she replaced it, and found, to her vexation, that she had lost both her hand- kerchief and a valued pen-knife—a gold-and- arl-handled one, that had been a present from | Hellice years before, when she was _a school- girl, rad that bore her initials, C. R., hand- _somely engraved, She uttered a little exclama- tion, and the lady who sat next her looked up none ee paper she = reading. ‘ Have you your money It was ; rather strained, harsh voice, and Crystel glanced at the massive gray puff of hair that filled the inside of her bonnet; a small lain sacque and dark dress; the cotton gloves; the brown vail; in her inquisitive way, before wered. one No, thank you. Only my handkerchief and m-knife.” = ~ pe then she leaned toward the window, and dismissing the thought of her trifling loss, was soon deep in the plans that had Jed her to thus secretly go to the city. She had but one ob- , and that was, knowing where nd a e, to follow, and thus satisfy herself as to whether the strange, bold girl who had mar: all never get out of my sight while I have — ~ in her pocket to take from thence her portmon- |

Page 24

24 WILL SHE MARRY HIM? ried him had any designs on his life, since he had repulsed her love. Crystel loved Bertrand greatly, and it was that love that urged her on; that compelled her, as it were, to follow the sudden, powerful impulse to £0. ‘What caused her to think ot it she ew not then; only in after days did she know it was the iron finger of her inevitable fate that drew her whithersoever it would. But, after all her coming to she city, she was unable to find Bertrand; he had Soe. his mind as to the route he should take, and Crys- tel, after visiting sevcral stores and offices where both were acquainted, returned to the depot, and reached Edenwilde a half-hour before the gentlemen. She was a little nervous, and in her endeavors to preserve her innocent little secret, she at- tracted the ever-watchful attention of Hellice; and although she made no remarks, she won- dered what was the matter with Crystel. At a late hour the household retired, and Ber- trand and Clifford returned to The Towers. CHAPTER XVI. . A NIGHT’S WORK. Ir being Annette Willoughby’s monthly af- ternoon ‘out,” she had, on her return from the city at six o’clock, gone across the bleak lawn from the depot to the Riverside Lodge; there was sternness and unrest in her face that Lida remarked the moment she opened the door. ‘Ts any one at home?” she asked, as she en- tered. : ‘No one but myself ; and I am an impatient prisoner. I oe Oy to take my old position in a week at furthest. You are willing?” _Annette’s lips curled. : “ Delighted; for Iam sickened to death of it ~ all, since my miserable failure.” & How ever you dared to do it,” said Lida, half-admiringly. “You have a wonderful brain; did you know it, Annette?” “TJ shall not admit that until I bring that creature downlow! Ob, Lida, I hate her with a hatred beside which common dislike is the highest love! I must crush her, I shall crush her, and for your co-operation I am here to- day.” r% half-frightened look crept over Lida’s face; it always did when Undine—Annette we are bound to call her—talked of further revenge. “You are strong enough to do what I ask, First, I have in my trunk that is here my best silk suit, all my jewels and money; besides my best under-clothing, my watch and chain. These, I am confident, will fit you; put them on, Lida, and go with me to the city to-night. I will wear my alpaca suit, and go as your maid,” ° : The girl looked woefully out of the window at the coming storm, presaged by the dull, leaden sky, the shrieking wind and the intense cold. “You will tell me why, Annette? what I am to do?” Annette laughed scornfully. “Do masters generally explain to servants? It is enough to give their orders. I expect hen | ect | to go—that is Of course you are at per ee liberty to refuse; you know the penalty, how- | ever. For ay part, I would much prefer a flying trip to New York than di ace, perhaps the prison; the gallows, for all I know.’ “Mercy, Annette! Why need you be so cruel? Of course I will go. What hour shall I meet you at the station?” “At seven to-night, and there’s no time to spare; and remember that Mrs. Hall is to think you are alone, if she need know any thing.” It was just in time to take the 7.10 down train that the women met at the station: and together they were hastened along, neither speaking to the other. They crossed over the city in the horse-cars, and from thence to one of the down-town fer- ries, where Annette led the way into the ladies’ waiting-room, now deserted, for it was nearly ten o’clock. “Now, Lida, I will tell a why I have ar ae you here. Itis simply for the immedi- ate furtherance of my plans. Lida, Crystel Roscoe shall suffer for her love for Bertrand Haighte; suffer because he loves her, and I shall be partly recompensed when I see her proud head brought low!” Lida shrunk back into the dim corner, “Oh, Annette! Annette!” Annette looked up at her. ‘* You are shocked to learn what an enemy I 773 be? Be careful I am never yours, then, ida. ‘“‘T know something dreadful is coming! Oh, Annette, for the love of sweet mercy, don’t make me plunge any deeper in sin than I am!” ‘Hush! this is not the place for sentimental farce, though it may be for high tragedy. Lida, Crystel has got to be put out of the way, and, hark you, YOU must do it!” Like a hunted deer, close followed by the pit- iless hounds, Lida’s breath came and went in quick, short jerks. Her eyes were strained open, horror-held, as she heard the sickening words fall from Undine Del Rose’s lips. Then a long, awful silence fell between them, broken only by the creaking of the pier and the sullen splash of the waters against the dock; for the wind was rising higher and higher,.and the brewing storm closing more densely over the dark landscape. ; ‘Well! you will do it, or— She never finished the sentence, for, with a cry of despair, Lida sprung from her seat. ‘Never! sooner than that, ’ll be a prisoner all my days! sooner than that, I’d bring my life to its everlasting close!” rise page Sr arse peer she rushed out on the swa ier; a second’s pause as she turned to Undine, foi “‘ My blood be upon your head!” Then she sprung silently into the crashing, frothy waters; once she rose, her eyes wildly opened, as if imploring Heaven’s forgiveness; and then she sunk again; and Undine saw a long bloody streak on her head as she was about to turn away. ; With all her Vg her diabolical strength, she shivered and trembled as she could barely retrace her steps. A horse-car passing took her up, and she went on, breathing freer amid the companionship of other living mortals. —

Page 25

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? D Afi that long ride back to fhe Hudson River ft pot she rejoiced at the success of her plan; or it had been her intention to Lida Hall hu to despair ; until she should either destroy erself in an utter frenzy, or accede to her de- eae for either answer she was prepared to J Now her first duty was to write a note to pet Hall’s wife, and drop it in the letter-box; acy. being mailed in New York, she would mislead any eusislon that might arise as to her intimacy with Lida. ‘For herself, she had taken 800d care that no one should know of her ab- tae from Edenwilde. This she had done by ighting her lamp before she went out, that would shine out in the darkness as if she were within. She knew there would be no demands on her, as it was her own time exclusively. _She wrote the note at the depot, with a pen- cil, on a piece of newspaper margin: “Dar Aunt ELLEN:—I went down to New York this afternoon, and meeting with Joe Willoughby—you have heard me mention him—I have decided to go With him to the West. We will be married before We start, Please tell Annette. ‘ Lipa.” Undine knew Lida’s handwriting well enough to mislead the eyes of uncle and aunt Hall, who would not grieve particularly on account of eir piaee, as no especial love had existed be- generally carried envelo and stamps—and then took the last train u = . the li ‘hts were heard-eaiaes in conversation. 2 house she crept, in the shad ait to the side-door, that in io the caaraae! i and, unobserved, she reached her room. CHAPTER XVII eee Piper MURDERED. \ cold, rain oom all New York seemed re : mad beac dati ae the nonce; horse-cars glided over the rails with few or no passengers, and the policemen at the corners drew the rubber coats higher up around yee eet ae = caps lower down over their EY eviden wishi fallen in pleasanter ances pane ner Fakes was just the time for villainy and crime : stalk forth; you could almost imagine every ‘urrying, solitary figure a burglar or a mur- Away down by one of the wharv of le, a rough, ill-fayored iene ere gaping at a solemn were wing bey out of the water At last the still burden was laid, almost rev- — wet and slippery looked down on the dead woman, with her he 3et-black hair clinging about her sli ful form, and her black silk dre, ue grace: in tight folds about her, all ‘wrapped Rings kled on her fingers: baer , and a tiny watch depending wr 3 in her pocket was a letter. and a dainty handkerchiot and &® portmonnais. ; were carefu en care of Drover authorities, and the body, swalber ane bloated past possible personal recognition, was carried to the Morgue, a And the news spread, as such news will, and all the sooner because the victim was evidently wealthy and tic. . People came to identify—not the body—for human skill could never have done that, but the clothing, the jewels and shoes, When astylish, elegant lady in her barouche came weeping away from the dead girl, they showed her the letter, the handkerchief, and the weapon that was supposed to have taken her life. Poor Mrs. St. Havens! she had felt so hurt at Undine the night of her sudden departure; and now, so soon after, she found her, murdered! dressed in the same elegant clothes she had left home in. The portmonnaie empty, for Undine had spent her change in car fare; the web of a handkerchief, with “U. D. R.” embroidered in a corner; a letter, one of Undine’s own passion- ate outpourings to her recreant admirer; and there, horribly—infinitely worse than all—was the death-wound on her throat, and the elegant little bijou of a penknife, all ornamented with gold and ebony, that was rusted over in blood and that lay under the bosom of the murdered i ha a penknife bearing the initials It was too horrible, and the dearest friend — Undine had ever known wept and raved like a madwoman, till they carried her away to her lonely home. r4 est was held, and it was decided Later the in that ‘‘ Undine Del Rose had been fully identi- fied by Mrs. St. Havens, and was believed ta have come to her death by a wound in the head, committed by some unknown person, probably with a penknife marked ‘C. R.’” : That was the import of the verdict, and in the papers Bertrand read itat The Towers. It hardly seems possible to describe the effect of the news, to them so awfully sudden. Ber. trand seemed almost stupefied. ‘Murdered! Good God, who has done it} ‘Cc. R. ?—merciful Heaven, Clifford, Crystel has a pen— He Hansed, a gray pallor face, his eyes almost pate from Clifford shivered as he laid down the paper. “T think it has been suicide. Poor, wa passionate child! she must have loved you, Ber- trand!” inkin had Soni like a ie htning-flash to his mind. — Then he clutched Clifford’s arms in his excite- ment. “Suicide? of igs but don’t you see— oh! don’t you see, she has mu with ial: I solemnly believe to be Crystel’s knife? She has either stolen it or caused a coun- terfeit to be made after she had seen it. Oh, the eeaigss Shi | his. aighte and Clifford Temple © ° hte’s ears were sealed—he was only — of the horrible agony that ered herself. fiend, the demoness! See how it will criminate or, hunted dar ya fe ced to and d ression. ec i ainrted from his chair when Bertrand face wearing an aspect of horri h pink his own ad spoken, his je and anxi anxiety. trouble and apsiracht to Edenwilde and get SAPs. ae ne 3 , fro, his eyes wearing a wild,

Page 26

‘4 ee men; and the girl 26 _ Crystel’s knife. Ofcourse ‘he has it, and with it in our possession, we can defy suspicion—if suspicion there be. Again, Bertrand, the time when this deed was committed must have been, as the attending physician swore, the very day we went to New York, and while Crystel was ac The Towers.” His face lighted up as he thus disposed of the case to his own satisfaction, Then he smiled outright. “Pve just thought how extremely ridiculous we are to dare even think of connecting Crys- yi in this affair. Bertrand, we are insulting er. But acoldness had seized the very vitals of the young lover. “But there will be an investigation, and I, as a law-student, can see through it all better than your unaccustomed eyes. ho, in the eyes of the world, would so be Undine’s natural enem rather than my Crystel? All our private life will be exposed to the hungry gaze of sensation- al-article readers; the whole world will know more of Crystel and Undine and I than we know ourselves.” “‘ But, by producing Crystel’s knife and see- ing the authorities, we can put a stop to any in- vestigation, can’t we?” - “Tf we can prove where my darling has been every moment since Undine left her home, I have all hopes.” : : “Then, let us go to Edenwilde without an in- stant’s delay.” ‘At Crystel Roscoe’s home the news had not yet been received; the morning papers lay ill unfolded on the stand, and Hellice and her ster were feeding the canaries. ' They turned around as the two gentlemen en- tered, and without a word of salutation, Ber- trand strode up to Crystel. ‘For God’s sake, give me your penknife!” She blushed a little, suddenly remembering that she had lost it on her recent journey; then she grew a little terrified at Racist’: wild manner, no less than his language. He impatiently laid his hand on her shoul- der. ‘Don’t keep us waiting; your penknife, with the initials on.” Hellice had drop the lump of sugar, and looked at the two in wonderment. Then Clif- ford explained: ‘You have not read the pa- aed ladies? If you had you could appreciate ertrand’s unusual excitement. Let me beg of you, Miss Crystel, to accede to the request.” Hellice snatched up the paper, at_the same time remarking, rather haughtily—“‘I am sure I can not see why the paper should affect either my sister or her property.” : é a But I can’t give it to you—I—have—lost— A ery fell simultaneously from the lips of the lushed to think she | ad thus to confess at this late day what she had hoped Hellice never would know. | _ “Oh, no! no, my darling, give it to me, for the love of heaven! for the sake of your own | sweet life!” . | Bertrand’s please, agonizing wordsalarmed — her; and she looked appeali gly at her sister. | Hellice had read the awfu by some mighty effort, spoke: _ -Crystel shivered, but | lustrated lines, and was staring in white wonderment at Crystel, then | ? . : 7 r ar’ - ~ 25 7 t eens) eae eae eee a es WILL SHE MARRY HIM? “Have you any idea where your knife was lost?” visit. ‘* At the station, or near there, I fear.” “When?” demanded Bertrand. ; “Last Thursday, the day you went to New York.” “Yes,” and a hopeful light showed itself in Clifford’s eyes, he afternoon you spent at The Towers, I think you said?” lushed pai “T did not go rystel_ b. painfully. there. I know I said so. Dortrand; my dar- ling, please don’t be angry. I went to New : : . ‘Then Crystel knew she must confess her stolen - York!” Then, with a hollow groan, the young - rs a to oi rote my Crystel, my darling! God help you God help you!" . ee Clifford was about to speak, but Hellice inter- rupted him, and went up to her sister, and laid her hands on her shoulder. “Tcomprehend it all. Crystel, that paper says Undine Del Rose is murdered—there, don’t look so white, my poor child; she was murdered the very afternoon that you were at New York, and your penknife, we fear, was found on her person.” : She spoke with a dreadful calmness, and ke not a word. Evi- dently the suspicion had not taken hold of her, as yet. ‘Well, what more?” Hellice looked down into the pure, frightened eyes. ; “Can you not see that it is only a matter of time = - feo eae ad arrested on sus- picion , my Father in Heaven, she is dyi —lI have killed her!” ‘ mel For with the full force of that kindly cruel blow, the girl’s senses had mercifully fled. And out in the hall, amid all the confusion, Annette Willoughby smiled at the scene. ‘And I'll swear T heard her say she’d ‘find a way to remove her!’ ” CHAPTER XVIII. DARK DAYS. THE body of the unfortunate girl, after the necessary formula of law had been gone through with, was conveyed to Mrs. St. Havens’s resi- dence and from there is in all the style be- fitting her station in life. Then the house had been darkened, the funeral guests departed, and Mrs, St. Havons, in her sable robes, paced the floor in restless grief, 13 Although not three days had elapsed since the body was discovered, the world was familiar with the facts elicited at the inquest; and, des- ite the power and position of the families at e Towers and Edenwilde, dark rumors and suspicions were flying the rounds of the news- papers, while one or y Be of the sensational il- weeklies had woven a romantic story, and heralded it before the hungering public eye. It seemed strange; passing strange that all this trouble had come so suddenly upon so many people; and while the outside ey orld were hover- ing before they alighted on their prey, the lit- tle world at the homesteads on the Hudson were half paralyzed with grief and fear. General Roscoe, at the very beginning of the

Page 27

WILL SHE MARRY HIM? ~~ ee 27 trouble, had had his lawyer down at Eden- wilde; while able detectives had been set to work to discover if other enemies than the sup- Posed had been at work. Bertrand Haighte, almost beside himself with grief and horror, had instantly gone down to —— Allan: and in blissful ignorance of the perfidy and deceit of his trusted legal ad- viser, had poured the story of his agony in his ears; probably more asa friend than a client. To his surprise, he found Lawyer Allan as. stricken with grief at the untoward. fate of | Undine Del Rose as was Bertrand at Crystel’s. ger. . To his greater surprise, the man refused his | counsel, and even asserted his own conviction | that Crystel had murdered the girl in a fit of | revengeful anger. Bertrand turned, in eo indignation, to the man. ‘I wonder how you dare utter such words to me, sir. You, who have enjoyed the confidence of my family these many -years, to desert the standard when the first fight threat- ens. Mr. Allan, I beg you will make ready Me, eae account you have against me, and make a full return of all the papers and docu-— ments. I shall transfer my business to another | firm. Mr. Allan, good-morning.” And Bertrand walked indignantly out of the office, while the lawyer watched him with red- | dened cheeks and kindling eyes; then, when he was out of sight, his anger found vent. “Take your business wherever you please, but remember you have bearded the lion in_ his den! You may have hated her, but I loved her. You may seek'to cover the guilt of the girl who took her precious life, but if sha'l be my task to | convict her before the worid! Urged on by love and hate—most poteni powers that sway the heart of man, I shall succeed! I have | thwarted you before to-day, Bertrand Haighte, for my darling’s sake! I shall thwart youagain for it!” He gathered up the business documents of Bertrand’s, and summoned his confidential mes- senger to take the first train for The Towers. Then he donned his hat; called a carriage, and drove straight to Mrs, St. Havens’s. When he re-entered the carriage that had waited over three hours, his face betokened his | triumph. : ‘J shall succeed in avenging my Undine’s | death! And now for work, earnest work!” It had been no difficult matter for Bertrand to secure the services,of the world-famed firm of Trask & Trask; and although he had at first thought there possibly might be some way of es- cape for Crystel, he wasconvinced the moment he left Lawyer Allan that an action would be brought against Crystel for the charge of mur- der, preferred by Mrs. St. Havens. t was a week before it was done; a week of such agony at Edenwilde as few of earth’s.chil- ren are called toendure. And then it came; for all it had been feared and expected, it fell like a thunderbolt, when, With all due formality, yet respectful mien, the Officer of th e out to mwilde in his Close marttnge waended by his deputies, to ar- Test Crystel Roscoe! é “se Tuall the pitiful loveliness of her striking girl- hood, she was taken to the city; _ agony that had pale | -were stronger proofs of by her side, more tender and loving than her wont, the faithful sister remained, while General and Bertrand followed in their carriage. All these past days Crystel had lived in a sort of a pathetic stupor; she had not seemed to be conscious of her danger; she was not at all alarmed or worried; simply calmly indifferent. She knew that she was ted of the most _ horrible crime that can be mentioned, and yet she was not moved thereby. “Why should I weep as you do? I am inno- cent, and why should T suffer? Only for you and papa, and poor dear Bertrand!” : Then her lips would quiver, but she would bravely smile in her sister’s heart-brokén face. In all her fair, delicate beauty she faced the surging sea of eyes that filled the court-room; her sweet face, more girlish than ever since the it, her tender, wistful eyes, her red, ap gg and flushed cheeks er innocence to many a keen-eyed man than all the array of evidence against her. ; We need not weary the reader with a detailed account of that long, tedious week of keenest, intensest rom! pg ne when the flattering hopes, the bligh fears first hightened, then de- pressed their spirits; how, when the nights came, and they took the prisoner to her cell, she and Hellice wept in each other’s arms, while the lover and the father paced the long corridor in distracted anguish. Every effort had been made to have her con- veyed to a hotel at night; bail for her appear- ance had been instantly offered to the extent of a half-million dollars; but it was not accepted. The offense was a capital one, and to the com- mon cell, under the roof with common felons, Crystel had to go. : he warder’s wife had done all she could for — the poor girl’s comfort, and it was almost touch- ing to see the attempts she had made to hide the staring prison-look of the dingy rooms. A strip of gay key ru ‘ white sheets and a lace-edged pillow-case were on the cot; a little curtain was hung to hide the iron bars of the window, and two cushioned - rocking-chairs had been brought in. Day after day the sisters took their seats and listened while it was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the knife was Crystel’s very own; it was shown how she had visited New York on the fatal day’ how she had seemed agitated and nervous both going and coming on the trains. ; : a Lawyer Allan, in all the glee of his devilisk feturaph, said he was prepared to prove, as a final evidence, that the prisoner had Bens heard to declare, in the oye os es of important wit- nesses, that she would find_a way of removing deceased from her path, or Mr. Haighte’s, which was pretty much the same. Murmurs of horror — and indignation arose from various parts of the room, and Bertrand sprung to his feet in insult- _ ed wrath. ‘‘ How gare". Then remembering himself, he sunk down in his chair again. “ Annette Willoughby, you will now state, on your oath, what you heard the prisoner re- *- was spread on the floor, 2 x

Page 28

_ “the sickening details— ie d pra a fly—till the stern old man on guard at the door Ye . re gp? ; ae ee eat to Mr. Bertrand Haighte and Mr. Clifford emple, in the presence of her sister, Miss Hellice Roscoe,” at ear was strained, and a silence like death reigned. The persons mentioned were astonished at the lawyer’s words, and awaited with ready, indignant denials, knowing full well that Crystel never used such manner of language. A’ low cry of wounded pride came from the lips of the family when they saw this woman, one who had slept under their roof and eaten at their table, ascend to the witness-stand. In a cold, heartless voice the woman told her story. She had been coming to the drawing-room with a shawl for Miss Crystel. The doors were all open, and she had heard a great deal about the romantic affair that occurred the night before she came, and when the Voice of the bride-elect fell on her ear, she instinctively listened, with a sort of curious awe, _ and she heard the prisoner say: ‘‘ Undine Del Rose dare not cross his path again! Let her but attempt it and I will find a way to remove her!” Then they langhed, and she went on; she’d never ’a’ thought of it again, if it hadn’t struck her all of a sudden ‘that it was her duty. The lawyer glanced triumphantly at Bertrand. Pale as ashes, his eyes glittering, he was staring au stel; Hellice’s face was buried in her hands, and Mr. Temple was biting his lips and looking bitterly at the woman. Crystel’s tears burst forth, for the first time during that long, long time of excitement. “IT charge you, on the Holy Evangel of God, tosay if this be true, Bertrand Haighte.” He arose, with his anguish in his face. vc ay God in heaven succor her, and forgive these lips that criminate her; tis true!” ** And your oath, sir?” He turned to Clifford. “It is true,’’ he replied. “Miss Hellice!” “She never meant it when she said it—never!” Then Crystel stood up, pale and calm. “T know I said it; but why those innocent, loving words should condemn me, God only knows. Ido not, Then she resumed her seat. The jury went out; a came in; and—we spare rystel Roscoe was found qily, and remanded to her cell! And Annette illoughby went away with a horrible smile on her ale lips, and a light in her eyes that seemed a ash of some old-time brilliance CHAPTER XIX. IN HER CELL. Iv seemed as though the blackness of darkness had forever closed over the households at Edenwilde and The Towers. Every thing had happened so suddenly; event fol- lowed event in such rapid succession, that it seemed _ impossible to believe they had actually transpired. hardly know how to describe the life of Crystel Roscoe after she knew she was doomed. At first she had lain in fearful convulsions, while _ friends, lover and relatives stood by, praying that her life would go out with every passing breath; but an inscrutable Providence disregarded their plead- ings, and Crystel grew well and strong—/or what ? _ After her consciousness returned fully, it seemed as though her reason could not stand the awful ressure; she would scream in her anguish, and beg them to help her—her, who never harm would weep like a child. Every effort was being made to procure a respite; thousands of dollars were offered by the Roscoes, the Haightes, and Temples for the real murderer to come forth; he was promised his life by the State authorities to turn himself over; and all the while, though the popular feeling was for Crystel, the hours went on and on, fraught with their burden of —— — WILL SHE MARRY HIM? - unutterable woe to many a heart that beat so proud- ly so shortly before. The day appointed jor the termination of the be. ee was still sev: weeks off; and lawyers and relatives were strivi for a pardon, Friends, by hundreds, had signed the touch ing petition to the overnor, and it had been forwarded. Crystel and Hellice were not told of it, for the fear that it might fail. Day after day had dragged along, while hopes ran high as to the result; the while Bertrand, full of surety that it could not end unfavorably, in that General Roscoe was a power in the State, as well as & warm personal friend of the authority who held so many lives in his hand! so Bertrand, who had never lost sight, of it, but which had sunk to mere triviality compared to the solemn doings of late, had instruc- ed his lawyer toapply fora divorce from Undine Del Rose. There was not the slightest difficulty in procuring it; the only question being a matter of time. : A fortnight, a month rolled on, and then one day there came a woman who had gained permission to see the prisoner, Hellice was with her, as she had been fora long time, almost as pale as the doomed girl herself. The stranger was Annette Willoughby; and the sis- ters shrunk from her as from a snake. A grim smile parted her pale lips as she noted i. “You naturally hate me; nor do I wonder at it; yet, for all that, [ have come to see if I cannot be of service to you: you, Miss Crystel.”’ But it was Hellice who made answer. : ‘You can do nothing more acceptable than to leave us.” She scarcely deigned a glance toward her, and ber tones were chillingly distant. “Miss Crystel, may I beg a private interview of a few minutes?” Crystel opened her eyes languidly. “As yousay. You can harm me no further.” She was lying, as she had for several days, with her hands olasped around her neck. “Tf my sister desires it, she shall have her will ohgred. Crystel, dearest, I will remain within call.” te e walked across the cell and out into the cor- ridor. Then Annette Willoughby drew her vacant chair up to Crystel’s cot, and fixed her dull, dead eyes on the girl’s bloodless face. ‘‘T said I knew you hated me; but not so badly as Thate you.” : These singular words roused Crystel; in her drift- ing away from all earthly happiness, it seemed so cruel to wound her thus. Her lips quivered. “T know not why you should, Annette, I never have wronged you.’ pate ‘* But you have, you have!” The words came in a passionately-quick utterance, and Crystel wondered, in her vague way, if the wo- man were crazy. “You thwarted best friend; you took the man my best friend had almost won; you broke her heart, and then you murdered her—murdered her, they say !” , She whispered the last words in a horrible, low to ne. ‘Yes, ‘they say,’ but you don’t believe it, do you? How can they th nk I did it?” The dead, dull eyes grew momentarily bright, as the woman replied: “That is what I came for, Inot only believe you to be innocent, but I kro it! I ean prove it!” Then Crystel sprung from her cot, her blood dash- ing madly through her veins; her eyes springing from her head in the rapturous joy of the moment. She fell on her knees before ‘Annette, and kissed her cold hand again and again, 7S “God bless you, my angel of deli what can 1 say, what can Ido to than all my jewels, all my property, Ede thing—and then I will be in your deb rance! Oh, “al Take lde—every- rever!”?

Page 29

See - WILL SHE MARRY HIM? Annette flung her pean, twining hands away, @ bitter sneer on her lips. 4 “Yes, can prove it. I know everything about it; I saw the blow struck, and lay my hands on the person at any time. Do feu hear that, Crystel Ros- coe? Tecan lead you forth as free as the breeze that is lifting your curls! Would you go?” ‘*Would I go! what mockery! Take me, Annette, whithersoever you will—only take me away from here. For God’s sake, free me!”’ She wound her arms around Annette’s knees in beseeching agony. Annette laughed outright. “Tsay I can do it; but, Crystel Roscoe, unless you give your lover up, 77Ui not de tt!” A scream, loud, piercing, fell from the girl’s lips as she reeled a moment, then fainted just as Hellice rushed in to her aid. pre ‘You have done this?” She pointed sternly to Annette, who was going away; she stopped a moment, as she answered: “YT think not. She is nervous and weak.” Then she went out, to encounter Bertrand Haighte in the hall. He lifted his head absently as he jostled against her. “T beg your pardon, madam.” ‘ She murmured an unintelligible reply, gazing after him, her foot tappiteappie on the floor, as if some great inward passion thus found partial vent. “Go on your way, Bertrand Haighte! But we will see if Undine Del Rose shall not be avenged!” ~ CHAPTER XX. A NEW SURPRISE, Bertranp found Hellice tenderly chafing Crystel’s cold hands and striving to check the heartrending moans that were breaking from her lips. ‘What is it, my darling? Tell me, and I will strive to comfort you though God knows I shall never know myself what that word means.” She smoothed his face with her little wan hand. “Tt was hard before—but it’s worse now. Ob, Bertrand, it maddens me to know she can “be a! my rt ge ge and she won't because she me SO Bertrand and Hellice started at her words. What? who can-prove it?” “Annette—but she won’t. I begged and prayed; I offered her all, everything, but she laughed an said not unless I gave you up. my Bertrand.” ; He sprung from his chair, heedless of her loving caress. «4 sudden light has flashed over me—oh, Crystel, Hellice, go down on your knees and | he as you. never prayed before, that at the last He will grant justice!” ; ; , He snatched a kiss from Crystel’s lips, wrung Hel- lice’s hands, and started on a tearing run after An- nette Willoughby. She had only reached the she heard his flying footsteps; that so illy befitted her pale li He strove = at himsel lightly on her shoulder. : ee ‘Annette—this is you? You have just left Miss Crystel, and I must see you at once red “Tf you wish it, my rooms are near at hand. I am going to them now.” . They walked on one or two blocks, and then An- nette preceded, him up the stairs of a plain, decent house, to a front room, scantily furnished. “Now. Mr. Haighte, I am at your service.” She removed her shaw] and bonnet, revealing her short, gray hair and sallow neck. | “TJ need waste no words on preliminary courtesy. Iwant. to know what your authority is in telling Miss Crystel Roscoe that you can prove her inno- and another one’s guilt? nearest corner, when and the strange smile s, flitted over them. as he laid his hand cence, ar 1 “He spoke sternly and rapidly. “ And if I decline to answer you? “Then I shallsummon the police and arrest ‘you. On the whole, I prefer that sow anyhow. Hestepped to raise the window, when the cold muzzle of a pistol touched his temple. He glancec around, and met a pair of demoniac black eyes dancing “before. his; a mouth wreathed in bitter- est scorn and wildest triumph. For a moment he stood horrified at the sight; then her cool, clear tones fell on his ears: “Tf you think to thwart me after all this time, you are mistaken, Bertrand Haighte! Do you know now why I can prove your ‘betrothed bride's ’ inno- ‘cence? Do you comprehend that for hate and re- venge, I will not? No! temple and my finger on the trigger, I defy you! laugh you co’scorn, and bid you go onto the execu- tion day, and see her hung—HUNG BY THE NECK, and then remember that / helped to doit, J, your law- ful wife! I, your discarded wife! I, whom people think lies dead and buried. I, a living woman, whom Crystel Roscoe shalll be hung for! 1, Undine Del Rose aighte!” The sharp crack of a pistol followed her shrill words, and Bertrand Haighte fell to the floor, his life-blood streaming over his beautiful hair, and down his still, white face! F CHAPTER XXI. A LAST ATTEMPT. For a second, Undine—we may as well call her so —stood looking at what she had done; then laying the revolver on the carpet near where Bertrand lay, she down the rear staircase, through the yard, climbed over a pile of lumber, and from thence into a back stréet, Here she paused for a moment, then walked leisurely on toward the river. < ““T will take this route to the denon if I am _ pur- sued I will drown myself, as she did.” a: It seemed as though her evil genius was protecting her, for she reached the Thirty-first station eyes my er purchased a ticket, not for Edenwilde station, w she eventually intended miles beyond. From this station she walked back, 7 oing, but one several — - With this revolver on your — Th + _" aa - = _reaching the Riverside Lodge just inthe dense dark ~~ ness that Seven day-dawn. Mrs. Hall came down to let her in. **Since Lida’s gone off on her goose-chase all the work falls onto me.” east 2h ce Lida gone away?” ndine’s tones were expressive of surprise. “Gone away! I should think so. She ‘ined that, ‘ere brother o’ yourn somewhere in New you needn’t tell me she went off to the city on her own accord; she’s got,a secret letter from +f bet—and off they went, the land knows where. Undine was perfectly indifferent under all, _ “ Joe’s a good fellow enough, Mrs. Hall, I’m sure.” “Good or not, I take it he can’t be great s enticin’ her off so. She was sick when ahs Peres I shouldn’t wonder if I heard of her death next.” Her words suggested a delightful idea to Undine. Hear of her death? indeed, Mrs. Hall should hear of aoa death, and thus her tracks would again he covered. Up in her silent bedroom, Undine la: i thinking, till it seemed her very brain woe wee She was angry that she had discovered herself to Bertrand Haighte. Why had she suffered hi »undo the very thing she had been so long doing? “But he shall not find me! not if I have to take my own life in the presence of the officers whom he — send to arrest me. What shall I do?” . ntil the sun was house high she lay thus, plan: ning how to escape the snare she had laid for her own feet. ‘Then, when she went to her breakfast she was ready for action. st ‘‘Mrs. Hall, you are going out to-day?” ; M Ritiincg oe ss freip Mis. Bowes bleach that ew piec H & mean job i | Back i pron i job it is, too. Old ere ain’t a blessed soul at The Tower Bowen and Rachael now; all the maids is ee the trial with the ladies. Poor, dear Miss Crystel!” Suppose I run down and see where Moll is, as I go to the depot? Tonly came up ina hurry togeta ork—and im, ri | Saree See erself to — Moll promised to come and help us hang it up, iS . ae

Page 30

Sy ~ change of underclothes. Miss Hellice ‘ll expect™me P p back right away. If Moll is sick or anything, she | can send somebody else, I suppose?”’, * “T don’t care who, ’s long as they can work.” fi So, oidding Mis. Hall and her husband good-by, Undine hurried down the shady garden-walk, to a F side road that led to a cabin on the edge of the es- tate, where Black Moll and one or two sisters lived. ‘There had bepn strange talk about this old wo- | man, and people said she was a witch: others, bet- ; - terinformed, knew she pretended to tell fortunes, while a very few, and Undine among them, knew that for money she would do anything. To this woman therefore, Undine went, in her for she fully realized how she was situated he entered the miserable cabin, and after ey herself. ao hour's interview, there came out a smart young negress, who walked up to The Towers to help Mrs. 3 : Bowen hang a the linen. Sei Of all her disguises, this was the most perfect. She fairly shrunk from her own self when she saw & her reflection in the little glass over Black Moll’s ait table. Butit was a fearful game she was playing 3 now. She had, perhaps, murdered a human being, sg an | her own life depended on her acuteness. : ‘‘Remember the terms, I will come here agai> in a fortnight ” : ‘And don’t fergit you leab youah ‘fectiatious a’: Moll in de ole cab’n, July.” ; : The old woman roared out her parting injunction, the ve girl—for she was courageous—set out ever think of woes for me here, If $, e story, I wonder ie sweetest revenge: to have him et locked between his lips and her ; for my murder, or have him blazon the _and then, with no proof to substantiate it, see h %ked to death before his eyes, when he knows She touched a small, white glass bead that bung _ under her dress, tied around her neck. » “tT have but to crush the glass in my hand, and the contact of the poison on the spot where the glass _ euts the skin is certain death.” _ _Agileam of defiance shone in her eyes a moment; _ then, as the gray hights of The Towers loomed up __ ¢losely before her, a bitter smile curled her lips. ___ Then she walked up into the laundry and told Mrs. iss ares she came in place of Black Moll, who was sick. - . _ “Tt makes no difference to me, so'you can help. Begin at the end—there.”’, B Aa: When the work was done that night, she asked if Mrs. Bowen wanted anything else done to-morrow. “> “There's enough to do, dear knows. Can you polish silver and shine glass? If you can, and can wash and iron, I'll keep you till the other girls come ” j “T can’t wash and iron; but I can do the rest, Aunt Moll will do that for you.” “You may as well stay then. sort of a nigger.” _ And so a fate that was closing hopelessly over her, though she was all unconscious of it, settled “* July, the colored servant, at The Towers. CHAPTER XXII. LIGHT IN DARKNESS. i __ Ir was high”noon of the next day whéeu Bertrand _ _Haighte awoke from the long, dreamless sleep that eae so near bearing him into Eternity. :. ad been seriously shot, and lay in prone un- ___ €onsciousness all those Jong hours: alike unaware as : ~ to how the discharge of the pistol had attracted a _ chance Se shag who had given the alarm; bow _ ‘Olifford Temple and Crystel’s father had been sent for by the officer, who recognized him; how they had tenderly ¢arried him to his hotel, with terrified awe that any one had dared to attempt his life. You seem a smart one & EE WILE SHE_MARRY HIM? r ; aby & es e EES the SUERTE They could do almost nothing; true, detectives were scouring the vicivity, but there was not a trace left of the assassin’s tracks. ; Little by little life e flowing back through his veins; then, when ev one save his mother had been kindly banished from the room, he slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. : At first he smiled in Mrs. Haighte’s face; then, like a lightning-flash, his memory awoke to a full sense of what had transpired. : ‘*Quick—the police! Mother, Undine is alive— alive, and she tried to kill me!” . Then, when the secret had fled from his lips, he fainted again. " But it was enough; intelligence was quickly dis- patched to the authorities, and the wildest excite- ment reigned among the few who heard the news. : General Roscoe himself flew back to the jail, where the night had passed in such strangely tor- turous emotion to the sisters, to tell the wondrous news. Hellice clasped her sister in her arms. ‘“*My darling, let us thank God for this one ray of hope; it may be only a chimera that. dear Bertrand has nn in his excitement; yet I think he is cor- rect. You say he will recover, father?” ‘* We have every reason to believe so. 7 firmly be- tieve God will raise him up to bring justice to light. Crystel, my angel child, lam glad to see you cry once more,” The storm of tears that nothing could bring had flowed when she heard of Bertrand’s danger, and she knelt, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, beside the little cot, in silent, agonizing prayer. ‘Father, can you explain this awful mystery? If Undine Del Rose is alive, why should not Crystel gO aE ml og moment? If Undine was noi murdered, 2 "0 was?” ‘“That Ican not say, my child. The proof of Fer- trand’s affidavit will soon be forthcoming if he was right, We have started a dozen detectives on her track. God send speedy success!” The». in his agitation to learn more of thisstrange news, > hastened back to Bertrand’s bedside. « He | i recovered again, and was doing ‘well; and as it was simply impossible to keep him quiet when so much was at stake, the attending physicians de- clared that, as no unfavorable symptoms had mani- | fested themselves, perhaps it would be a help, in- stead of a hindrance, to relieve his mind by discuss- ing the affair with his friends. , “It is just six weeks ago to-day, Bertand, that you applied for this; see?” It was a large, business-like paper; and it needed but a glance to see it was a bill of divorce between Bertrand and Undine. “T only wanted it for Crystel’s sake; after we thought she was dead it was too late to stop pro- _ ceedings. AS itis, itis a good thing.” The second week of Bertrand’s convalescence ~ brought the answer to the petition; his excellency bad cranted a respite of a month; a pardon was deer .i inadvisable, in the existing state of affairs, Da; by day Bertrand lay on his bed, or sat in his chair, reading letters from the various agents em- ployed, and receiving almost hourly telegraphic communications. which Crystel was to have been hung had it not been for the merciful respite—there came a telegram of one word; only five letters, but a word that at once and forever dissipated the long, long night of an- guish, torture and douht. The word was “ FOUND;” and it was telegraphed from Edenwilde station an hour before, and signed by the detective. Like wildfire the news flew from mouth to mouth; the very bootijlacks on the corner spoke of it; and/ Clifford Temple and General Roscoe dashed off to the jail to bear the glad tidings. “Darling! darling! you are free—free forever! And then, one day—the day on. The detectives have found her, my children, and her very existence leaves you spotless before the world! ‘te -

Page 31

Hellice! CG : Ps ott ker for ne pom can we ever repay our July, the negress, was hen, gazing absently out © sere, somber winter robes na knock on the door, close er with a start, as every noise to Ppen it, just as Mrs. Bowen came ing eo er cap-strings flying, her face pe ha thatever can them perlice—” Then the pute? door opened, and two detectives sprung in, Sor, su a wrist, while Undine, with a tle window on of the Highlands,, an powerless at their feet, oan of terpardon, ma’am, but we had to intrude. This young Woman here is Miss Undine Del Rose, ar- rested fo fa lehter on the life of your master, y ne wen gazed in stupid awe at the s “Yor don’t mean to say this nigger, lad ‘hy, bless my soul, Ce Y—Y was in jail for killing that Thre ‘n't be her!”’ *Suzzled frown was contracting the old lady’s We beg eaker, uly, is a n—something. $ I ee his is she, and Miss Roscoe will be free by to- f 4 ’ ampere to the hotel. , } morr, +f CiOUShe saints be praised!’ ejaculated the old house- this time. Come, Miss Del Rose, time's pre- keeeh raising her apron to wipe the tears under thes vi es. , : Now, you black—you white baggage, “pi our’ ba t, after all the load she had borne so long alone, th t feather had broken her courageous spirit; he ad sunk into a deep faint, and lay motionless on tee floor. «pis disguise may as well be removed. Could you,2ssist us, madam?” «Could I? indeed I believe I’m none too good to e her to death!” nd so between the three Undine was restored to ,er natural eUpeeeaiee, while Mrs. Bowen, all un- 01 e dreadful agent it contained, threw e fatal glass bead far out of the window. ‘Tt was not until an hour after that Undine recov- red; and then, with her first moment’s strength, hrust her hand inher. bosom. With a scream of yaffied rage she drew it forth. iy ‘ia has dared meddle with me? Woman, it was you _ “Of course it was; there now!” Undine’s lips moved, but no words intelligible me from them; then the men conducted her forth and lifted her into the carriage, in which they drove to the city. At the station they were met by crowds of curious people, who followed the party to the Toi bs, whith- er Undine Del Rose was Cearicd. 5 Retributive justice had brought her under the same roof, a prisoner with Crystel Roscoe, who was only waiting a form of law to set her bodily free. Early the next day the sheriff read the honorable discharge; and amid a throng of men, who with bare heads and moist eyes lined the street, Crystel A meeting it was between the friends that is too sacred to reveal; there were silent, solemn grasps of the hand, add inaudible praises for God's great mercy; while Crystel, so pale, so passing fair, knelt at Bertrand’s side, her own sweet sthile shining through her tears, and his strong hands trembling -y like a child’s as they lay on her sunny bright hair. Pe And ‘then, the dear old rector of Edenwilde, who had’ copte to rejoice with them, prayed; and when thought poor, dear Miss |! he had arisen from his knees, they all 1 cloud had dispersed, and the silver ge CHAPTER XXIV. .«¢~ THE LAST OF THE PLAY. By some strange coincidence, ‘Undine Del Rose was consigned to the same cell that Crystel Roscoe had left; but it was not for long, for a fearful brain fever followed the reaction of ‘all these months of misery. When she recovered her strength and health, the light of her reason had gone out, and she was an idiot; a silent, harmless, pitiful woman, who would sit all day long holding her hands, never moving or speaking, : With all the agony of a strong love, Mrs. St. Ha- -vens had nursed her, and tended her through her long, tedious illness, during the delirium of which she “had told over and over again her plans, her successes, clared its own truthfulness. At her recovery, Undine was carried to her oll home, where, in the depths. of her grief, Mrs. St. . Havens cared for her as a mother should. For Undine was her own child; the daughter of Bertrand Haighte’s father, and Bertrand’s half-sis- ter! That was the cause of her impassioned warn- ners the wayward girl when she had declared she would marry Bertrand Haighte, and that the reason of Clifford emplos solemn cautio mple k the secret that the Haightes never | had loved the oo despite her Ub ngs Mrs. St. Havens had sworn n edge. . ae ittle had Bertrand dreamed t that ** Florian still lives,’ was me name had been changed by her fearfi of whom Mr. Haighte had recorded the wa his son, knowing, in his moments of lucidness, there was a chance that his two children meet and ignorantly love. Of Lida Hall’s suicidal death her aunt never knew, or her uncle; they neyer heard from her, and be- lieved her to be somewhere in the West, ~ : Poor Lida! How the body drawn from the river was supposed to be Undine’s was never explained; it is a mystery — to-day—save to our readers. And now to drop the curtain on these dark scenes forever! Two years have passed on fleet wings, and now we invite our readers to the double wedding in the litte Edenwilde chapel. It is not as ae as you think eg teres to the Roscoes, the Haightes and Temples; but when you remember the darkness that brooded so long, you will agree it is best. : The ceremonies have been pronounced, and the few guests have congratulated the brides; Clifford Temple and Lurline, his wife, have driven to Eden- wilde, whither the wedding breakfast is to be cele- brated; and Bertrand and Crystel linger a moment as their carriage drives up. Reg His arm is around her waist, and he is looking down in her pure, sad eyes, that wear a shad heppinaas can never drive away. “My own wife at last!”’ ; ‘Yes, dearest Bertrand, and is not our happiness the sweeter that it has been so dearly earned? “We can never forget the dark days, darling; but we will-look forward to the beautiful bright ones that we shall enjoy forever together!" i Thus they started their life journey; both not un scathed by the fiery trial, yet purified and strength- ened. . Meanwhile Hellice Roscoe and Gussie Haighte contentedly intrenched behind the e»rthworks they | Sy — le Speech ine ann and aighte ha in their children’s happiness. and sel a rane can be said? be THE END, * ow until a complete confession was obtained that de- | and ght ae

Page 32