Waverley Library (Octavo Edition) (no. 72) (1885 10 06)
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Sremeigeted oO) fl a ° . AVER Kk Copyrighted, 1885, by Beant anp ADams. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter. Oct. 6, 1885. a Year. No. 98 William Street, New York. Five Cents. a Vly. even PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, NO 72 66 _ ” h) vee ” " ~~ 7 SILLY FOOL!’ MUTTERED THE WATCHER, ‘MEN ARE TREACHEROUS, AND SO YOU WILL YET DISCOVER.” A MAN'S SIN: lake, which lay burning and darkening like a y burnished shield in the yellow sunlight. The forests were brilliantly tinted with scarlet and Or, HIS LAWFUL WIFE gold, and a soft, purplish haze rested lovingly upon the encircling hills. BY RETT WINWOOD. Every day for six months the young girl had —— beheld ‘nearly the same scene, but it never CHAPTER I. pig santé agree Pee uy 4 ¥ 2 gentile si eave er bosom, wonder - PERRARD AND WORE, if I shall be S happy anywhere else?” she mur- wh a one of those perfect October days | mured, ina dreamy tone. of oe he air one breathes seems like a draught At this moment a step stirred the gravel, and. oth mn orosia, every breath that fans the cheek a | a young man came slowly along a path leading Ss, from the lake. Neria sprung up to meet him. In the vine-clad porch of a as inki ighté£ : Y pretty cottage T have been thinking what a delightful suim- «Rigg overlooking Lake George, sat Neria Gon. mer we have spent here, Eeureace’ she said. ‘ orks was gazing dreamily at the landscape | “‘ I am so sorry it is over.” rs before her. It looked like a picture. | The young man threw himself into a seat, ce a ripple stirred the placid bosom of the | He was a handsome fellow, tall, heavy-limbei,
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@ young man came slowly along a path leading from the lake. Neria sprung up to meet him. “I have been thinking what a delightul sum- mer we have spent here, Lawrence,” she said. “Tam so sorry it is over.” Tbe young man threw himself into a seat. He wasa handsome fellow, tali, heavy-limbed, with one of those brilliant dark faces women find so attractive. “Does it pain you to think of going away?” he asked. “Oh, very much.” He looked at her eagerly, the troubled frown that bad wrinkled his brow a moment before vanishing quite away. “Tam glad you like the place, Neria,” said he. ‘It is healthy and retired—all that is charming, There is nothing to binder us from _ making it our permanent home, if you feel so disposed.” ‘She looked up quickly, the plan was so dif- ferent from any he bad ever made before, *€Do you think it could be naged, Law- rence?” e “Hasily. Mrs. Gross, our Jandlady, would be delighted to have you remain: will settle the matter with her at once.” | “But would yw like it?” “1? he echoed, with an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, yes. It would bea delightful retreat to world. It would please me above all things. We would see much less of each do now—that is the only drawba Something in the words and tonestruck a sud- den chill tothe young girl’s heart. “You do not mean to say, Lawrence, that _ -you would go away even for a day, and leave me behind?” she faltered. “Ym afraid so, darling. But don’t look so - broken-hearted. I shall be with you all th tis possible. You may expect to see me every week. But, our holiday is over, I have been thinking for some time of telling you so. have been idle too long already, and must go back to my work.” | __ * Are we so very poor?” Poor enough,” he answered, dropping his y eyes rather than meet her clear, honest gaze. “eee “No matter. That need not separate us. I - am young and strong; 1 couid go with you and i help about our work, whatever it may be.” _ *Tmpossible!” ; “Why? I would like it, and I am quick to 7 ther than we oe ” ‘ rn, Then, still looking at him steadily, she added: “What is your never told me.” “You would not understand, darling. I did — not wish to trouble you with wearisome details. Let us talk of something else.” _Neria sighed, These evasions perplexed and troubled her. It almost seemed as though her _ husband had something to conceal, _ Lawrence himself broke the brief silence that a tone of affected careless: business, Lawrence? You ensued, saying, in ness: : d You and I have been married for half a ar, but it is singular how little we know of ¥ ’s history. Ido not remiwinber ever A MAN'S SIN. — if you wish, I ; ie Be which to hie from the cares and bustle of the i having heard you speak of your relatives, or early friends,” | Neria changed color. ' Thad reasons for being silent,” she said, in | alowvoice. ‘‘The lines bave not always fallen to me in pleasant places. The names that | should have been sweetest to my lips were the most difficult to utter. Forgive me, Lawrence. nse of these days you shall hear all there is to tell. ‘““Why not now?” ‘* Bs patient a little longer,” she pleaded. Lawrence gazed at her uneasily. It was very strange what had so turned her against her own kin she could not endure even to mention — them. ; ‘“‘ What does it matter, after all?’ he said to | himself, half angrily. ‘lf there has been any ~ scandal or crime, I would rather never be told.” — Gently drawing her to him, he added aloud: ‘‘Let me tell you why I referred to your friends and early life. You will be lonely with 'me away. The thought suggested itself that — ' you might be happier surrounded by those you had known and prized in childhood—” “No,” she passionately interrupted. ‘‘ You ; are the only person [ love in all the wide earth. | Do not talk of a separation; I could not bear it. _ Wherever you go I willfollow. Whatever bur- dens fall. upon your shoulders I will help you bear. No one could take your place, or console 'me for your absence, Oh, my love, do not _ break my heart by leaving me behind when you | go away!” | The young man looked both pleased and an- ' noyed. It was something to have won a love . like this, however troublesome it might eventu- ally prove, “Foolish child,” he whispered, gently caress- ing her. ‘‘I did not dream you would take the matter so to heart. But, take courage; I will never leave you.” At the moment he meant it. Neria’s distress and clinging affection had touched his callous | heart. ‘C7 will be true to her, whatever may come of it,” he thought, yielding to the generousimpulse that came over him. Just then Mrs, Gross, who was gathering herbs in the little kitcben garden not faraway, came in sight of the young couple sitting on \the porch. A frown wrinkled the woman’s brow. Her own life had been soured by trouble and disappointment, and it made her envious to witness the bapeiaes of others. ‘‘ Billing and cooing as usual,” she muttered. “*T wonder how much longer it will last?” She stood up, peering curiously through the vines. A pretty pink flush bad kindled in Neria’s cheek, and her head rested confidingly against her husband’s shoulder. ‘Silly fool!” muttered the watcher. ‘‘Men — are all base and treacherous at heart, and so you will yet discover.” Mrs. Gross had always felt lurking doubts of Lawrence Gordon’s sincerity. Six months fore he had brought Neria to her cottage, a bride. They had idled the whole summer away in this self-imposed seclusion. Many points on — the lake were gay with ner visitors, but the © young couple never re tors, or left the © immediate neighb “id 4 =
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' ) A MAN'S SIN. At this moment a boy came up the path with a letter. Lawrence snatched it eagerly, and rising from his seat, advanced a little nearer the clump of bushes behind which Mrs. Gross stood, before breaking the seal. There were two envelopes, the inner sealed and post-marked like the other. Mrs. Gross caught a momentary glimpse of the name on the envelope that had been inclosed, and almost cried aloud. She felt absolutely certain it was not Lawrence Gordon! What did it mean? While she stood motion- less, Lawrence broke the second seal. <A mut- tered imprecation fell from his lips. He read the letter uwice over, then tearing it across, thrust the fragments into hi~pocket, and strode away. The woman looked after him, her thin lips tightly compressed. It was easy to see that he had been greatly disturbed. ‘‘T would give my right hand to know what's in that letter!” she muttered. CHAPTER II. GONE! NerzrA’s slumbers were broken and disturbed that night. An indefinable foreboding that could not be shaken off, sleeping or waking, had taken possession of her mind. Once she awakened with the dreary sense of being left alone, forsaken. ‘* Lawrence, where are you?” she cried, aloud. The touch of his lips upon ker cheek answered ; her. Clinging to bis neck, she burst into hys- | terical tears, “T have had such a wretched dream! I thought you had gone away and left me.” “Silly child,” he said, half-impatiently. ‘* You must have been worrying yourself over the conversation we held this afternoon.” ‘¢¥Yes, I could not help it, Lawrence. I am nervous and hysterical to-night. The feeling is strong upon me that something dreadful is about to occur.” ‘‘Nonsense, You need a soothing draught to quiet your nerves. Iam going for one.” He was absent some time, eagerly the mixture that had been prepared. “Lawrence, how good you are,” she mur- mured, lifting her eyes lovingly to his face. | “Tt would be ungrateful to fear any wrong at your hands.” He turned hastily away, going to the open window. Was it fancy?—or did his face really look pallid and haggard in the uncertain light. Neria looked after him anxiously, but before she could make up her mind on this point a strange drowsiness stole over her, bonumbing every faculty, and she fell fast asleep. The October sunshine was streaming in at the window in a flood of gold, and a solitary bird, perched on the balcony without, was singing his matin song when she awoke, The hour was late. Finding herself alone, Neria made a hasty toilet, and burried below. ' The little porch where Lawrence smoked his | morning cigar was vacant, and she ran through the silent hall, calling his name. Mrs. Gross was in the dining-room giving a few last touches to the breaisfast-table. Neria drank | “Where is Mr. Gordon?’ Neria asked. : The woman looked up quickly. ; “Hé has not been down this morning, un- ess—” ; ‘‘Unless what?’ cried Neria, alarmed by her hesitation. ‘‘Speak out.” ‘*T found the front door standing open when Icame down-stairs, and Mr. Gordon’s hat and coat were gone from the rack.” ‘‘He has gone for an early walk,” the youn girl said, but flew back to her chamber, no pyka 3 why she went, or what she expected to find. , : A glance told her that many of his little be- longings were missing from the room. On the dressing-case, with a newspaper thrown care- lessly over it, lay a small packet addressed to herself. She had quite overlooked it before go- bes tos of eria’s heart beat almost to suffocation as she tore the wrappings asunder. A letter fell out, and a roll of bank-notes. Everythin swam before the girl’s eyes for a moment, and ve sat down, her forehead covered with heavy ops. ‘Read the letter,” said a husky voice at her elbow... ‘‘ That will tell you whether the wretch has gone away for good.” It was Mrs. Gross who spoke. She had fol- lowed the girl up-stairs, and divined all at a _ glance. eae mechanically Neria obeyed. -It ran us: “T have received an imperative summons that ; cails me from your side fora time. After our con- | versation of yesterday, it seemed wiser to go with- / out any words of adieu. Remain with Mrs. Gross until you hear from me again. You will be liberally ' provided for. While I live you shall never want for money, or a friend. LAWRENCE.” The letter fell to the floor. Neria sat fora while with her hands clasped over her face, not knowing or caring that Mrs. Gross had picked up the crumpled sheet, and was eagerly devour- | ing every word. The harsh, rasping voice of Mrs. Gross broke | in upon her reflections: ‘* And so the villain has deserted you, madam? I half expected he would; but the crisis has come sooner than I looked for it.” . 2 The girl sat motionless, one hand clinched tightly over her heart. Slowly the meaning of ‘Mrs. Gross’s words was dawning upon her senses. ‘“Tt?s a terrible plight to be in,” the hard, re- lentless voice went on, ‘‘but you might as well make the best of it. Iam going to speak very plainly to you. It is not your fault, poor thing, that you have been cruelly deceived. You have lived under my roof for six months as Law- rence Gordon’s wife. It looks now as though you had no claim to that title, or he would scarcely have gone away, and left you like this. ” j t— | °Y” shrill ery broke from the lips of the wretch- ed girl. : ‘© Hush, oh, hush!” “You had better let me speak, miss. Who elsois to help and counsel you? I was about to say that I shall not drive you from the house, as almost anybody else would do under the cir- ‘
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cumstances. ¥F cannot help feeling some com- passion for one so wantonly betrayed. For the eg you can remain as though nothing had appened, and we will decide together what course had better be pursued in the future.” The forsaken one sprung up wildly, clasping | both hands to her forehead. “Leave me,” she cried. ‘‘For pity’s sake go away! Give me time to think my trouble over. I feel like a madwoman.” She looked it, with her hollow cheeks and burning eyes. Mrs, Gross’s heart was not all adamant; after hesitating a moment she silent- ly left the room. Neria tried to think calmly and connectedly. In vain. Her brain burned, her mind wandered in a wild cuavus. She could not realize tuuy Lawrence had really goneand left her. “It cannot be,” she moaned. ‘‘Hoe loved me truly, he was my lawful husband, no matter what Mrs. Gross may say. Something very strange has happened to call him away, but he has not willfully deserted me.” Rousing herself at last, she slowly and pain- fully made her way down-stairs to the tidy kitchen where Mrs. Gross was going about the morning’s work as though nothing unusual had occurred, **There has been some mistake,” she panted. “YT am suffering terribly. Who keows but some direful misfortune has befallen my bus- band, and he wrote that letter simply to blind and mislead me? [I am going to Glentown. . There may be news of him ‘at the hotel where he sometimes stops. Ob, Mrs. Gross, I am so © Spinel Sao to get there, and—and—” She sunk into a chair with such a deathly — that the woman was thoroughly fright- ened. ‘* My poor child, try to bear up,” she cried. “Tt’s an absurd idea you’ve taken into your head, but T’lldo whatIcan. I'll call Rob, and he shall drive you over at once.” “Rob” was the hired man. A few minutes later Neria found herself en rovte for the vil- lage, seated by his side. m reaching the hotel, she sent immediately for the landlord. He came smilingly to medt her, the start of surprise he gave being an in- voluntary tribute to her youth and beauty. ‘Tam here to inquire for my husband,” she said, keeping her vuice steady by a powertul effort. ‘* Perhaps you can tell me something.” **Pardon me; I have not the honor of know- ing madam—” “Tam Mrs, Lawrence Gordon.” He bowed low. ‘‘Ah, indeed! Yes, your husband was here quiie early in the morning, | but—” ; “Where is he now?” Neria demanded, just above her breath. “Gone. He left for Albany some three hours since,” The poor soul shrunk back, as though he had struck her. The words confirmed her worst fears. Pride came to her rescues, however. It would not answer to Iet the man see what she suffered, . ; “J—J—wished to see Mr. Gordon again before’! he went,” she faltered, feeling that some excuse for her presence there was necessary, t | woman offered. A MAN'S SIN. Draw ng her vail over her face, she passed oug. The shudder that ran through her frame escaped the man’s notice. Little did he dream what a broken and bleeding heart his beautiful | guest carried from his presence. CHAPTER III. THE AGONY OF SUSPENSE. No word of explanation was necessary to inform Mrs, Gross of the result of the mission to Glentown. She came out, the moment the car- riage drew up before the door, and with some show of kindness helped the girl into the house, giving her a seat by the sunniest window. ‘* Don’t take itso to heart,” saidshe. ‘Scores of innocent young girls have been deluded by a false marriage, and left much worse off than yourself. Mr. Gordon—if that is his narae—has promised to provide liberally for you—” A ery of horror, anguish and indignation broke from Neria’s lips. “What do you mean? How dare you doubt the validity of my marriage with Lawrence Gordon?” ; ‘7 judge from what I know, and have seen,” camethe coolresponse. ‘* A man doesnot leave his lawful wife in the free and easy fashion Mr. Gordon has taken to rid himself of you.” ‘*We are bound to each other by every tie, human and divine,” declared Neria, trembling with excitement. ‘‘! hope you will be able to prove it, my dear.” ’ ‘It is easily done. We were married in New Orleans, after an acquaintance of only six weeks. I wasliving as governess in the family of aplanter atthe time, My husband brougbt me here immediately. We have remained with you ever since, Oh, there can beno doubt but it was a bona-jide marriage. I still have the certificate. I insisted upon keeping it myself, and Lawrence did not care.” Se hastily detached from her neck a slender chain of gold from which depended a small locket, and touched a secret spriag. Why was it that she fell back, the next instant, her face p2le as death could have made it? The receptacle was empty! The discovery shocked even Mrs. Gross, If Lawrence Gordon had stolen the certificate, the fact proved that he had dealt with this hapless girl with a studied treachery of which she had deemed him incapable. Mrs. Gross stood Jooking compassionately at the strickeu creature a moment, then drew nearer as though she had taken a sudden reso- lution. “There's something you ought to know, miss: it would be no kindness to keep it from you now, and may help to throw some Jight on Mr. Gordon’s shameful conduct. After you were gone, this morning, I went into the garden to gather vegetables for dinner, and found the fragments of a letter lodged in the grass. 1 have read it, and advise you to do the same.” Neria mechanically took the slip of paper the If had been torn straight across, leaving a portion out of the middie o the letter, which was without beginning or end- ‘ This is what was said, written in a woman’s and
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A MAN'S SIN. Lak eos ss “Your friends are inquiring for you every day, and even I do not know where fo address a line save | through your favorite club. Positively, this state | of affairs shall not continue. Unless you soen pre- sent yourself in proper person, I shailset out by myself to find you and learn the cause of your mys- terious disappearance. “Tt is high time, too, that you had established matters on a surer footing with Mrs. Faunce’s beau- tiful protégée. She loves you, and is secretly griev-" ing over your continued absence. She will inherit the whole of the old lady’s immense wealth. It would be folly tosuffer such a prize to slip through your fingers. We have nearly reached tue end of our tether, and something must be done quickly un- less you wish to see absolute ruin stare you in the face. Since itis in the books that you must marry an heiress or be reduced to beggary, it might better - a thousand times be this one than another.” What followed had been torn away. Neria - crushed the fragment in her hand. There could be no doubt but this letter bad been written to her husband. He had received it the night be- fore, and it was this that had taken him away! Mrs. Gross, meanwhile, was attentively scan- ning the young girl’s face. “T’m going to give my version of this affair,” she said grimly. ‘*‘ You can take it for what it is worth. Mr. Gordon is a man of the world, and such persons never give a second thought to wrecked lives or broken hearts. He has had his holiday, and you’ve seen the last of him, You might as well be reconciled to give him up. He has gone back to hisaristocratic friends, and will doubtless marry the beiress who has been selected for him.” Mrs. Gross did not intend to be cruel; she only wished to prepare the girl for the inevitable. Great was her surprise and consternation, there- fore, to see her start up suddenly with a long, sbuddering cry, and fall insensible. ; All that day and night Neria lay like one dead. She did not moan or weep—only a faint fluttering breath showed that she lived. By the time morning dawned, she had gath- ered a little strength, however. When Mrs. Gross took up her breakfast at a late hour, she found the poor soul moving about the room dressed in traveling attire. “(Mercy on me! What now?” exclaimed the astonished woman. ‘*T am going to find my husband,” Neria an- swered ina trembling voice. ‘*Do not seek to dissuade me. I must go. The journey means life or death to me now.” ‘Poor child! What can you expect to ac- complish?” “IT can see Lawrence, and learn his intentions from his own lips. Nothing Jess would satisfy | me.” Her voice broke, almost dying away for ! a moment, ‘' You are a woman, Mrs. Gross, and can divine what I suffer. Suspense and un- | certainty are driving me mad. 1 can not bear them much longer! For God’s sake let me zo!” The wiid «anguish of look and tone Mrs, Gross never forgot, “Of course you must go, if you feel like | that,” she said. ‘* But it will be a fool’s errand, The world is wiae—you may never succeed in meeting with Mr. Gordon again.” **f shall go direct to Albany. I know the | name of the hotel where Lawrence stops when | . | broken, there. If he has gone on, there will atleast be information of him.” Remonstrance would have been useless, and Mrs. Gross deemed it the better policy to speed the deserted wife on her way. It was late in the afternoon when Neria reached the city. Taking a cab at the railway station, she drove at once to the hotel where she hoped to find her husband. Her heart beat high, she trembled with excitement as xhe as-_ cended the steps. ss Some one was crossing the ball at that very moment. She recognized that firm, manly step. und forgetful of time and place, rashed forward with a fe int, heart-thrilling scream.” ‘Lawrence! The startled wretch saw and heard. He fell back a step, a muttered imprecation falling from his lips. , ‘*You, Neria! Here!” CHAPTER IV. THE FAITHLESS HUSBAND, HAD a phantom from the other world sud- denly risen to confront Lawreuce Gordon, he would not have been more astonished than at the unexpected appearance of the woman he had so basely deserted, The necessity for action recalled almost in- ey, his wandering wits. Seizing the girl roughly by the arm, he drew her into one of the small recéption-rooms, closing and locking the door. ‘*Now tell me the meaning of this!” he said releasing her. ‘Why have you followed me?” Again she sunk at his feet, her heart growing cold, like a lump of ice in her bosom. “Don’t speak to me so! Don’t, Lawrence!” she said, with a voice like one that is smother- ing. ~ Her haggard face and evident distress shamed him into an exhibition of something like de- cency. ‘“Why did you dog my steps?” he repeated, more kindly. ‘+ What led you to come here?” ‘*T could not live without you.” “Nonsense. I thought you understood it was impracticable for us always to be together. ‘You found the note I left?” j ‘* Yes,” she answered. ‘“That was explanation enough of my sudden depaiture. You should have been satisfied, and remained quietly with Mrs. Gross.” Neria’s heart was sinking lower and lower. She could not disguise from herself the fact that ber appearance had annoyed and fright- ened him. “Already she detected an indefinable change in his manner, The gentle courtesy, the airy politeness were gone forever. : Clasping her arms about him, she burst into agonizing sobs, ; ‘‘Tawrence, husband! my heart is almost Tiow could you leave me in that strange, cruel fashion? ‘“*! pave a horror of scenes,” stammered the wretch. ‘*l knew you would not consent to a | separation, bowever brief. The way I took seemed the easiest one out of the difficulty.” ‘“‘ty fled my mind with terrible apprehen- Oh, my husband!” a Ay Ue ent re eae” er a. . 8 Poe ae
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6 A MAN’S SIN. sions. I thought—I feared—you might intend casting me off forever.” He looked at her curiously, a dark red surg- ing over his face. ‘Tt was a foolish notion; I realize it now,” she went on, tremulously. ‘You could not do anything so heartless and cruel. Iam amazed at myself for having doubted you. Forgive me, Lawrence! I had so much at stake, and— circumstances were against you. Ob, T have been very wretched. lt would have bien mad- ness to remain behind. I wished to hear from your own lips that you love me as truly as ever. The pallor of her upturned face—tho pathetic one, ts her lovely eyes—touched the man’s eart. e suddenly took her in his arms. “Of course I love you, little one,” he mur- mured, ‘‘ How could you doubt it?” “Tt is not true, then, what Mrs. Gross said, Tam not really your wife?” ** Did Mrs. Gross say that?” “Ves, Lawrence. She is naturally sus- picious. Sbe claimed you had deceived and forsaker. me, and were not what you pretended. I mighc have given no attention to what she said, buta fragment torn from a letter that was | ' world to insure your happiness, my love.” found seemed to confirm everything.” The young man’s look of annoyance changed , to one of alarm. “A letter?” be exclaimed. What do you mean? What letter?” Neria took the crumpled morsel of paper from her pocket and gave it to him. “*T kept it because I hoped for this oppor- tunity to give it to you, and ask an explana- tion,” she said, Lawrence turned to the open window. reading the few lines that bad caused Neria so great distress, be rolled the torn sheet into a ball, and threw it into the strcet. “Tam surprised that you permitted such a} trifle to trouble you,” he said, not without some show of embarrassment. ‘‘'The letter is from my mother, who has very ambitious views for me. Of course1 am not in sympathy with her designs. 16 would not have been kind to refuse to go toher, however, and Lam now on the way.” he explanation seemed reasonable enough, only Neria wondered he had not volunteered it before. How much misery she might have been spared! “T am glad that is all,” she said, eagerly. “We can go together. I must meet your mother some time—it might as well be now as later.” But Lawrence frowned and drew hack. “You do not understand, dear. My mother is avery proud woman. Some preparation is necessary before J can present you as my wife. Her heart is set upon seeing me wedded to an- other, The disappointment might prove a seri- ous blow if it fell too suddeniy. No, 1 must go on in advance, and prepare the way for your coming.” ‘¢ You will not be long?” “Only a few days.” “What is to become of me while you are away?” she inquired, after a pause. Before replying he walked several times up “Where is it? | a and down the room, as though buried in per- plexed thought. ‘Tt is scarcely worth while to return to your old quarters,” he said at length. ‘*Mrs. Gross might not prove a pleasant companion after what has occurred. I had better find a nice, quiet place near by, where you can remain.” “T should not mind remaining here at the hotel, if it is only for a day or two.” “The place is too public,” he answered, hastily. “{ might keep my room, for that matter. I should not feel like going out with you away.” ‘You would like better to live more re- tired.” He quitted the room, presently, to see what arrangements could be made. Neria was quite startled to observe that he locked the door, and took away the key. Two hours wore on; she had grown very anxious and uneasy when at last he returned. ‘*T have found just the place,” he said, gayly, as he entered; ‘ta. pretty little cottage in the suburbs that you can have all to yourself.” “But was it worth while to hire it for so short a time?” Neria objected. ‘““Of course. I would do anything in the As he bent to kiss her, the poor, deluded crea- ture ciung to him with passionate force. ““T believe you do love me, Lawrence,” she | murmured, In a few moments they were ready to set out. Lawrence seemed anxious and restless, and glancing at her curiously, before leaving the room, said with a forced laugh: After ‘““Wasat a woebegone expression! It would never do for strangers to see you like that. \Where’s your vail?’ She produ-ed it from her pocket, and he tied it securely over her face. “Thats better,” he said, with an air of satis- faction, and led her down to the carriage that waited in the street. It was a long distance to their destination, and Lawrence, who seemed unfamiliar with the way, alighted more than once to make in- guiries. Just at sunset they drew up before a tiny cottage of three or four rooms, quite be- yond the city limits. Lawrence had the key in his pocket. It was a furnished house, the rooms large and airy. Neria saw ata glance that with a cheerful fire burning in the grate her new home could be made to wear a very cosey and pleasant ap- pearance, : ‘‘T have engaged a competent woman to take charge of the house, and expect her every mo- ment,” Lawrence explained, drawing forward an easy-chair, ** You will be very comfortable ere, Neria leaned toward him, a chill feeling of foreboding seizing her heart. “Oh, Lawrence! One would think you ex- pected me to remain on for an indefinite period.” ‘*Nonsense,” he answered. ‘I thought you would at least be grateful for the trouble I have taken to leave you pleasantly situated.” “Solam. But you know full well that no place would be pleasant to me long unless you were there.” ;
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- i shall return almost before you have missed me : Taking his hand she laid it caressingly against her cheek. “You will come back, Lawrence?” she said. “have your promise?” *‘Of course. I hope you are not again giv- ing way to silly misgivings?” _‘* At the earliest possible moment?” she per- sis ted. “Yes; I shall count the hours of our separa- tion quite as impatiently as you do.” Neria tried to feel satisfied with this assur- ance, but somehow the tone sounded hollow, the words insincere. . Shortly afterward the woman who had been engaged as housekeeper arrived. She was tall, lank, and rather hard-looking, and did not im- press Neria atallfavorably. . “T leave my wife in your care, Mrs. Drury,” Lawrence said to her, ‘‘and shall hold you re- sponsible for the trust. See that she wants for nothin - e Leaving a well filled purse on the table, and tenderly embraciny Neria, who felt sick and Ld ment, and left the house. CHAPTER V. HOPING AGAINST HOPE. 3 NEARLY two weeks passed, but no line or message from the recreant husband. Neria counted the lagging hours, and from morning till night sat motionless at one of the windows overlooking the street, watching, waiting, straining her eyes in the distance that she might gatch the earliest possible glimpse of his be- loved figure. ““T see now why he brought me to this out- of-the-way place,” she thought, at last giv- ing way to despair. ‘He intended it for my permanent home. Ihave nothing more to hope or expect. All his specious promises meant If man, she kept such knowledge to herself. Neria found ample timo to reflect upon her om ee a . oP oe She could not fail to realize that a bitter wrong had been done. Lawrence had deceived her in respect to his social position, and why had he secretly taken away her marriage certificate unless he meditated other crimes as well? One wet, windy night early in November she left her usual position at the window just as evening closed in, and threw herself on the couch. She felt feverish and sick. There was no longer any hope of seeing Lawrence that night, she thought. _ he was mistaken. A discreet rap sounded on the door, presently, ana Mrs, Drury entered. “T have pleasant news,” the woman said. “‘Mr. Gordon has arrived.” ; _ Nerja sprung up, all her lassitude gone in a - moment, ‘“‘ Where is he?” she panted. : “Tn the sitting-room—waiting to receive you.” Her limbs trembled as she made her way to faint at the thought of the coming separation, | he whispered a few last words of encourage- | s. Drury knew aught of tho missing | situation, during these days of enforced solitude, | the door. Her h st within the room. 7 OSS loge =e ‘So you have come at last?’ she said, with- out going up to him. ane (Sank geen aa ‘Yes, Neria. Did you think I had broken — my promise, and intended to remain away?” he © asked, with a forced laugh. eg ‘““T was ata loss what to conclude.” ee ‘Well, since I have taken the trouble to come in this storm, you might at least niveie a pleasant welcome.” .. so is arms were held out in the old caressing __ way, and Neria found it impossible to keep up the réle she had begun. What, after all, was the — of betraying wounded pride or resent- ment? gee 5 ‘*Lawrence, why did you not come beft rey” she asked, resting her head upon his breast. “‘T found my mother quite ill. Iam her only child. It was impossible to Jeave her sooner.” ‘Ts that what kept you? Why, I have been —— hard and bitter thoughts of you all the while! He kissed away the penitent tears that filled — her eyes. Fane ‘Never mind, love. You will understand me | better, by and by.” “aie | ‘*T hope so. There must be no more doubts and fears. Of course all is settled now—you will take me away when you go?” ee ‘*Not yet. You must be patient,” he an- swered, with some embarrassment. : _ “Must there be more delay?” she deman | in a voice of pain. | ‘*Yes, My mother is not strong enough t | bear excitement. I could not well enter i ' any explanation. There will be time eno . for that when she recovers,” ee | Neria could not keep back the tears of disap- pointment that rose to her eyes. pis kr “How long will you be able to remain, now | that you are here?” she abruptly asked. | “This is only a flying visit. fmm return | New York at once.” ap “So soon? Lawrence, think of the long, days I have spent here alone.” ° a: “Tt cannot be helped, dear. My mother’s sus- picions would certainly be awakened were I te absent myself for a longer period.” er aad ** At least take me with you when you g she implored. ‘TI could be ready in a very moments. I promise not to be a burden to you inany way. Let me go.” 2 “ Tinpossible!” < Neria felt chilled and hurt. She could not help thinking how eager she would have been, with their positions reversed, to make the ex- periment. ~ : : “Teil me the truth, Lawrence,” she cried, — clinzing to him with a loud burst of sobs. “It wovld be no kindness to keep it from me afi a lL have suffered. My heart misgives me the love you once professed for me growing ¢ already # I wish to know. Do you love me 1 longer? bee “What a foolish question!” he exclaimed, — . trying to smile. R | “%faminearnest. Do not mock me, ple Bo. 2° es — et + Once we were so happy together. Ah, those bd 2 | bright, blissful days! I fancied they would — last forever. ’ But they are gone with the bea aa
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pee - tiful summer that gave them birth. You ap- | “At my next visit. But why are you so _ pear so strange, so cold, so unlike yourself, Lawrence. First you left me secretly, without a word of farewell, or any clew to your des- - tination. For weary days together I have been - without any tidings of you. Even when you _ do reappear, it is only for a few fleeting mo- iments, What am I to conclude? That you wish to be rid of me, and are trying to soften ; thu fatal blow? Ah, it is terrible! For God's _ sake, do not keep me in suspense. I would _ rather be to!d the worst at once.” \ A moment he hesitated; but, bad as he was, he had not the courage to declare the truth. _ Drawing her to his heart, and covering her face with kisses, he answered with an air of ap- parent sincerity : ; “How can you say such dreadful things, Neria? Love you? Ofcourse [ do. Are you not dearer to me than my own life? Perhaps I have not always munifested that affection suf- ficiently, but it is a living, burning flame in my heart. I could not live without you. Try to keep up your courage a little longer, darling, and this trial will be over. Only be patient sod: and forbearing. If you understood all, you -_-—~--—- would know it was impossible for me to have __ acted differently from what I did.” She believed him. Itis so easy for one who loves devotedly to be deceived. very quickly for Lawrence to go. Neria tried to be calm, and keep back her sobs, for she knew how her husband disliked a scene. ‘*T shall count the hours until you come again,” she said at parting. “Rest assured [ shall not remain away a day longer than is,necessary,” he replied. _ After he had gone, all the old doubts and forebodings returned. Neria tried to shake them off, but in vain. In spite of determined efforts to keep up her spirits, she became more unhappy than ever. _ “Heaven alone knows when I shall see him again,” she said to herself. ‘“‘Why did I not ask for my marriage certificate? It would bea great comfort to have it in my possession ?” $She had forgotten to speak husband was present, however, and could now 2, BE patiencly until he came again, his did not happen until another week had made his appearance. Neria noticed the fact - withapangof dismay. Did he fear to be seen approaching the cottage by day? | _ This time he appeared more urried and ill at ease than before. The first greetings had -searcely been interchanged before the young wife spoke of the certificate. _ “Why did you take it away?” she said. “It isallI have to prove to the world that I am your true and lawful wife.” “You shall have it again,” he answered, _ turning aside his face to hide his confusion. _ Tintended to examine the paper, and return it at once; but neglected to do so,” - “Where is it now?” _ Among my belongings at my mother’s house in New York.” - _“ When can I expect to receive it?” ¢ The moments wore on, and the time came | of it while her | gone by. It was evening, as before, when he | ' anxious for that bit of paper, Neria?” ‘ | ‘s A flush came into her pale cheeks at the ques- ion. | “Tt is anything but a ‘bit of paper’tome,” — she answered, ‘It means life, honor, happi- — ness aud good name.” **Of course you must have it if you feel like that,” he said, ratherirritably. ‘‘ But its pos- session can neither make or undo anything.’ i When the evening was well advanced he arose to depart. 3 ‘“Good-by,” he said, abruptly, taking her handinhisown. ‘I must be on my way.” All Neria’s fortitude gave way at the thought | 1 . ' of parting with him again like this. Clinging to him with bitter sobs and tears, she cried: “How can I let you go? Lawrence, how , can I?” He freed himself roughly from her embrace. ‘‘Let us have no foolishness, Neria. You know as well asI do that this must be. Why — not take a common-sense view of the sRuation, and keep your self-control?” She felt hurt and wounded as ncver before. Sinking down on a chair she saw lim depart without another word, CHAPTER VI. THE BLOW FALLS, DuRinG the two or three weeks of her sojourn at the cottage, Neria had never once passed be, yond the narrow confines of the grounds. Mrs, rury executed the few commissions she had outside, and there was nothing to call her into the busy thoroughfares of the city. One morning, several days subsequent to Lawrence’s last visit, vn A unusually restless and nervous, she dressed herself in walking costume, and puepared to go out. Mrs, Drury saw her cross the hall, aud looking rather flur- ried, followed her to the door, even venturing to lay a detaining hand upon her arm. ; ‘‘?—I hope madam has no intention of going far?” stammered the woman. i Struck by the woman’s persistence, Neria looked steadily in her face an instant. “Ts there any reason why I may not go out? Has Mr. Gordon instructed you never to lose sight of me?” a ‘Not that,” came the hesitating reply. ‘‘But—” ‘¢ What did he say?” . “He would prefer that you did not go out unattended while he is away.” - ; Neria’s heart throbbed a little faster, What was the significance of instructions like these _ coming from her husband? 1 “There is no danger,” she said, lightly, ga- thering up her shawl. ‘I shall not be long away,’ Neria passed on, feeling curious and uncer- tain. Why should sbe not go out freely, at that hour of the morning, if so disposed? There was not the least impropriety in doing so. — Deeply absorbed in these self-communings, she took no note of time, but awakened sud* — denly out of a reverie to find herself in one of — the crowded squares, along distancefromhome, — in the midst of the changeful stream of hu- _ manity flowing by. a | Presently her attention was drawn to a hand-
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som? private carriage standing before one of the fashionable shops. As sbe gazed alady, closely vailed, but elegantly dressed, descended to the walk. Neria felt her heart thrill strangely, for there was something strikingly familiar in the lady’s air and bearing. The next instant a gentleman advanced, took the lady’s arm, and lifting her into the carriage with an unmistakable air of proprietorship, seated himself beside her. Neria stood like a statue. Her heart gave one great, tumultuous throb, as though about to burst from its confines, then lay still and pulse- less in her breast. That man was her recreant husband, Law- | _ rence Gordon! : The carriage rolled away before she could - either speak or stir. Its occupants had not ob- served her, and knew nothing of the wild, woe- ful gaze that followed them as long as they re- mained in sight. Something in the little scene told its own story. Neria did not scream or faint, but put- ting both hands to her forehead in a weary ges- ture, leaned trembling against the iron railing near which she had paused. _ A brief interval elapsed, then she heard a kind | voice say close beside her: | ‘Hallo, miss! You murs be ill, Let me lead you outof this crowd.” She shook ber head. “I shall be better soon.” “Don’t be too sure of that. Wait a moment. I will call a carriage, and you can go wherever you prog - “A little later she found herself resting on the soft cushions, She had just strength enough left to tell the driver where to go, then fell back in a state of semi-unconsciousness. It gave Mrs. Drury quite a start to see her young mistress brought home in this condition. The woman got her into the house, drew an easy-chair up to the grate, brought cushions and hassocks and warm, stimulating drinks, doing all that was possible to revive the heart-broken wife, Nevertheless she lay like one dead, with her eyes shut, and scarce a flutter stirring her cold bosom. Mrs. Drury dared not question her; she could only stupidly wonder what had occurred, : : As night fell, Neria revived a little, A faint color came into her cheeks, she grew restless and feverish, and constantly watched the door. “ He will come to-night,” she said to herself, “T shall see him again.” About nine o’clock there came a step outside, and the bellrung. Neria waited quite calmly | for Mrs. Drury to let her husbandin. She was — astonished at her own composure. She did not | even look up as he came swiftly to her side. “Is it you?” she said, declining by a gesture | his outstretched band. ‘‘Sit down; I was ex- | pecting you.” A ‘ , Lawrence stared. Was this really his loving little Neria who had received him so coldly. 7 am not very strong,” Neria said, after a pause, ‘The least excitement upsets me, Will you be good enough to tell me at once your ob- ject in coming. here to-night?” : “To see you, of course, my dear.” Looking _ at her closely now, he noticed her changed ap- | ‘Dearance for the firsttime, “In Heaven’sname — what is the matter, Neria? Have riously il??? , She made an impatient gesture. é. ‘Ibis of no consequence. We will speak of other things, if you please, I am afiaid we have not thoroughly understood each other in _ the past. It is time that we did.” “What do youmean?” he demanded. ‘You — said when I entered that you had been expect-— ing me. How is that Bane 8: since Isent no — word of my coming? Your language is utterly | incomprehensib! hand on her throat as though youbeen se 18, Neria laid one : she felt a suffocating sensation. aie “Permit me to explain. Thisis not thefirsti — time to-day I have seen you.” ead ‘‘ Not the first time?” teks “No. Earlier in the day you were driving with a lady—an intimate friend, I conclude.” She had expected to see him overwhelmed with confusion, but was scarcely prepared for the startling effect of her words. Lawrence fell back, pallid as death, and trembling visibly. For a brief space he had not even thestrength to ak, ‘ft has become necessary to speak very plainly,” she went on, her heart beating a little quicker. ‘I have never complained, and will not do so now. You know as well asl dohow ~ much I have borne in silence. But the time has come to assert myself. I am tired of ail this secrecy. It must come to an end, Lawrence— ~ for your sake as well as mine. I am resolved — to run all risks, and from this time forward — take my true position in the world as your — wi What will io. at will you do?’ he cried, springing to — his feet with an oath. wl t rs ; ““T fancied my meaning was perfectly clear. _ To please you, my husband, I have kept aloof from society all the months of our married life. Dangers have been incurred, the mere thought | of which makes me shudder. Butallthismust haveanend. Your social position isfarabove what you led me to believe when I became your wife. Doubtless you had some good reason for — deceiving me. We will not speak ofthat. Now that the first glamour of love has worn away, = ou may even feel some regrets for having inked your destiny with that of a pen lesa". Se governess. It is too late to give waytoany such feeling, Lawrence; I am yours,and you are mine, forever! Forever!” : Her voice softened as she went on, all harsh-- ness and coldness melted away. She leaned to- ward bim, stretching out her hands in eager supplication. agi). *. ‘Only love me! Ihave no life save in you. I should die if you were to turn utterly against me. Don’tdoit, Lawrence! Bear with mea lit- tle. I will be to you the best, truest wife man ever had. Only return a little of the affection Lam luvishing so freely.” 22 &hefellon the floor at his feet, and wound — her arms tightly about his knees. . E Lawrence tore himself roughly from her cling- ing arms. =e: ‘‘Have you concluded?” he said, in a hissing > whisper. ae “Ves ” Then Ihave a word to add, Itwasmyin-
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A MAN'S SIN. _- tention to break the truth to you gradually. You have only yourself to blame for precipitat- ing its disclosure. It was a false move to think to take the leadership into your own hands. ' AS save yourself will be injured by your olly. The words fell on her heart like a blow. His very looks frightened and appalled her. ‘©What do you mean?” she pauied. “T will tell you. It will bea relief to throw off the last vestige of disguise. Know then that the time for acknowledging you to the world as my wife will never come! You have no such claim upon me. The ceremony by which I won you was utterly void and illegal. I did not know it at the time, but learned the fact afterward. Iamas free from all ties, so far as you are concerned, as I was the day we first met.” Neria made no response. She could not. She sat for a moment as though slowly turning ager +? tO — Even her lips seemed to be frozen to- gether. : Misled by her silence, Lawrence resumed in a kinder tone of voice: “Tam glad you are not disposed to take your situation to heart. That would be useless, Of hs course I mean to provide handsomely for you. | _- J am already negotiating for the purchase of this cottage, and shall settle it upon you witha sufficient income. But you aud { must part—” _ The sentence was never finished, for with a ti agonizing cry she fell at his feet, insen- s1bie. Calling hurriedly to Mrs. Drury, he helped place the unconscious girl on the sofa. ~ But he detested anything like a scene. Call- - ing burriediy to Mrs. Drury, he helped place the unconscious girl on the sofa. “Do what you can for your mistress,” he _ gaid, pushing a few crumpled bank-notes into the woman’s hand, -cessary, though itis probably a mere fainting- go at once,” And without even glancing sgain at the hap- less young creature whose life he had ruthlessly ruined and blighted, the heartless wretch left house, ee CHAPTER VII. ; DOUBLY DECEIVED. ___ SoME blows fall with such crushing force it is difficult to believe in their reality. Thus it was in Neria’s case. During the long watches of that terrible night, after consciousness re- bi turned, she continually asked herself if it was not alla hideous dream. Was it really she wno had been so woefully deceived? Had Lawrence a on, come and gone, and spoken the cruel words to which she had listened? _ At last, long atter morning dawned, her mind began to clear, and she was able to think con- nectedly. - “ Lawrence’s stories about his mother’sillness were base fabrications—idle excuses to put me off,” she thought. ** How weak I was to be de- _ ceived by such hypocrisy! All these weeks he bas been paving the way for a final separation ae rh ‘*Call in medical aid if ne- | fit. Ican be of no use bere, and might as well | a person. At length, wearied out with the —studying how to get rid of me with fhe least _ trouble. Oh, my God! my God!” She could not weep, the solace of tears was denied her. But her heart bled, | ‘““T see how itis,” she wenton. ‘‘Thelady with — whom he was driving Aer has supplanted me in bis affections. He is anxious to make her his wife. He hung over her like anardentlover. Perhaps—perhaps—” shuddering, and ciasping her handsas a sudden thought struck terror to her soul—‘‘ they are married already!” The bare idea sufficed to arouse all her slum- bering energies. During Mrs. Drury’s tem- porary absence from the room, she arose and dressed with feverish haste. ‘“‘The lady must be good and kind, I will go to her, and tell her my simple story,” she said, with sudden resolution. ‘‘She will not — refuse to listen. Treacherously as Lawrence bas dealt with me [ love him yet. [ am his wife in the sight of Heaven, and no other wo- man can hold that relation to him while I live. I will tell my rival so. I will ask her to give up him [love. She will doit—she cannot turn a deaf ear to my prayers. Even Lawrence must pity me. He willreturn to his old allegiance, and I may be happy yet.” Filled with this hopeful thought—a mad one, alas!—she tied on her bonnet with trembling fingers and went out. Tho streets were filled with the usval bustling crowd, but Neria hurried on without glancing to the right or left. She had no very clear idea how to find the lady of whom she wasin search. She did not — even know whether she was a resident of the — city or only a transient visitor. She was igno- rant of her name, and not having seen her face, might pass ber on the street a dozen times with- out suspecting ber identity. It seemed like a hopeless quest. | ‘What am I to do?’ she asked herself, a feeling of utter despair coming over her. | Lawreuce was probably still in thecity. The ‘only feasible plan that suggested itself was to . find bim, and, painful as the interview might be, learn through his instrumentality the where- abouts of the person in question. Hailing a cab, she drove at once to the hotel where she had found Lawrence on first comin to the city, and called for the hotel register. It was laid before her, and she ran hereyes hastily — over the list of arrivals for the previous day. Lawrence Gordon’s name was not recorde among the rest. ; ‘“‘He is stopping at some other hotel,” she — thought. ‘‘I will go the rounds.” 3 She did so, everywhere meeting with the — same result. She even made inquiries, but n0_ one could give her any informacion of such a fruitlessness of her efforts, she retraced ber steps to the first place visited. , “J wish to communicate with Mr, Lawrence Gordon, and have lost his address,” she said t0- the clerk, noticing his surprised look at her re~_ appearance, ‘Be good enough to inform me when he was last here.” Bie “Tdo not kuow any one by that name, ma dam.” was the answer. a gee ** You do—you must!” came the eager exch
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“Think again. Mr. Gordon always gy here ducing bis infrequent visits to the city.’ ihe man gravely shook his head. “Then if must have been before my time, madam, and I have been here two years.” ~ mation. Neria drew a startled breath. The insinu- ation Mrs. Gross had made long before, that Gordon might be a fictitious name, instantly suggested itself to her mind, * Let me sce the register again,” she cried, her heart beating and her brain reeling, She knew the date of Lawrence’s first secret - flight, and bastily turned back toit, The page _ was well filled with names, but that for which she looked did not anywhere appear. “Thank you,” she said, in a husky voice, pushing back the book, ‘I will not troubie you further.” The conviction was forcing its way home to her unwilling mind that Lawrence had deceived her in respect to bis name as in all things else, She had not even a clew by which to trace > m. , ~ Nearer dead than alive she made her way back to the little cottage that was now her only home. Mrs Drury stood in the door, anxiously watching for her reappearance. “Wow long you were,” said the woman, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘‘i bad given up all expectation of seeing you again. Poor child you look like death. Come in and lie down, | Ludw you are in trouble, but you will feel bet- ter by and by. One can learn to bear almcst abything.” ‘Neria made no response. Her temples were throbbing frightfully, aad once having gained her room she fel! upon the bed, and buried her forehead in the piliow. ‘‘Heaven help me,” moaned the poor crea- ture, ‘tor I shall ca mad.” What was to become of her in this distressing strait? In point of fact she was both nameless and homeless. Nameless, for she had no right to the title she had once worn with such tender ANG af gpa because she would sooner have _ begged or starved than remain indebted for the _ fcod she ate and the roof that sheltered her to him who had basely deserted her. “T must leave here at once—make my own way in the world,” she thought. ‘* But where, _ where shall I go? Where bide my shame and misery? And who will take me in?” The thought of her early friends—those from whom she had been so long estranged—was first to suggest itself. It would bring greater com- fort than anything else to seek a reconciliation, und be able to throw herself upon their com- Passion. » _ But pride rebelled. - “Never, no, never!” she cried. ‘That hap- Piness is denied me. I am under a ban. The trouble that has overtaken me shuts me out for- ®ver from the society of all I have ever known. oved ry. Gradually, as she reflected, a longing to hide _Rerself somewhere in the great city of New _ York, took possession of her mind. It might have been because thai was Lawrencoe’s home, i i cannot go back to the dear ones who once | me, with such a sad, shameful, terrible | though this would be, or simply becauseina =~ vast metropolis she could hope to lose her _ identity more effectuaily than elsewhere. She did not stop to analyze the feeling, but simply gave way to it. on Ne eS ee “TJ will go now, this very night,” she re- solved. : iia Reason told her it would not he well to ac- qnaint Mrs. Drury with this determination. — She waited until nearly midnight, when the honse was still. and the good woman-wrapped in =~ repose, Gathering up a few little trinkets, and utting some money in her purse, she went orth to the new, untried life before her. CHAPTER VIII. i Ee A NEW HOME AND A NEW NAME, ae In the gray light of earlydawn Neriareached New York. gna, it was with a terrible sense of issolation that she stole forth from the railway terminus into the unfamiliar streets of the great city. se ae | She wandered on, aimiessly and recklessly, | her brain in a wild whirl People turned to ~ look at her as she passed, and once a _pleasant- faced lady inquired if she were ill. Neria did | not even hear the question. She felt dead and — benumbed mentally, only alive to pases pain. — At.iength she reached the Park. It was now past teu o’clock. Utterly worn out, she could scarcely drag oue limb after the otber. She — threw herself, half-fainting, into one of the re | tic chairs. : : | What followed she could never clearly rec She seemed to wake up out of a lethargy to fim a tall, handsome, noble-looking man ‘standing beside ber, tightly grasping her arms. 5 ease ‘‘ What is the matter?” she heard the gent! mansay. ‘Try to rouse yourself sufficient]; to tell me.” : She lifted her dazed eyes to his face, but m: no response. bated ters ‘‘{ wish to know who you are that I may take you to your friends,” he persisted. wht, The last word riveted Neria’s attention for a ¥ monient. ; “Friends?” she repeated. ‘Friends? Who are they?” : peat ae me.’ No answer. hat is what I wish to discover. Pray ? ae She closed her eyes, and sunk of her friends. ital.” & @ 4 3 =) @ ° ct o Qu fo rs: ° 5 ® i=] a 2 3 fo") i=:) f=} e & | | lirious. he being borne to hands; then ail was a — ys g =o ro) a 3 n os 5 S ° te} 3 x ce S = wa So re - blank. ; v2 Many days and weeks had gone by beforé she _ | awakened again to full consciousness of her own — | existenge, | fe ae 3 ’
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12 couch in a pleasant chamber. A small table, littered with vials and medicine glasses, stood near. The bed was near the window, the cur- tains of which had been drawn apart. With her head resting upon the pillow, Neria could see the landscape stretching below. She ; —- her hand wildly to her forehead The hills and valleys were covered with a white mantle like a shroud! She had gone to sleep, as it were, with all tne glories of autumn about her, and now it seemed to bs mid- winter, or nearly so. he door opened, Neria heard footsteps ap- proaching the bed. ‘‘ Oh, Gilbert!” asoft voice exclaimed, in a delighted whisper, ‘‘ there has been a change! I do believe the poor girl has come to her right mind at last!” “Hush!” came the warning answer. ‘‘Do not startle the child.” Neria turned her gaze full upon the speakers. She saw the same handsome gentlerman whose face she remembered in the Park, and a lady several years older than himself, but closely re- sembling him, who was evidently his sister. “Where am I?” she asked, in a weak voice. “ With those who will take good care of you,” the lady answered, coming nearer, and speak- ing in a tone of repressed excitement. ‘‘Do not be alarmed, or borrow any trouble.” ‘©Who brought me here?” _ “My brother. He found you in the Park, sick and delirious. We did not know where to find your friends. and have cared for you our- selves,” Tears stood in Neria’s eyes. She put up her hand to brush them away, and then noticed for the first time how thin, white and wasted it was. ‘*T must have been ill a long while,” she said. “ Yes, many weeks,” was the answer. ‘‘ But you are not to talk about it now, or excite your- self. You are still very weak.” *¢ What is the name of this place?” ** Cragnest. bert Brandon. I am Mrs. Charlton. That is all you need know for the present. We will talk more about it when you are stronger.” _ A MAN'S SIN. She found herself lying on a daintily-draped It belongs to my brother, Gil- | Neria took unquestioningly the composing * draught that was now placed at her lips. Some- how she felt a deep sense of peace and security, as though she were homeless and friendless no longer, The next day she felt better and stronger. Awaking from a refreshing sleep to find Mrs, Charlton sitting alone beside the couch, she said eagerly: * Has any one been here to ask after me?” “No,” the lady answered. ‘We advertised in the papers, but there was no response. Your friends have utterly lost sight of you.” _ Neria remained silent for some time, with her face turned to the wall. What had occurred during the long weeks while she had Jain un- conscious? Was Lawrence lost to her forever? Had he well-nigh forgotten her already, and married her unknown rival? ¢ Mrs. Chariton’s voice, full of affe tion and syropathy, aroused her from these bitter re- flections. ‘* Perhaps there is some person for whom you would liké to send, my dear? If so, you have only to give me the name and address, and I will communicate with them at once.” Neria started, and felt the heavy drops gather on her forehead. ‘““No, no,” she said. ‘* You are very kind— — you have only been too good tome. But there © is no one I wish to see—not one |” ‘*Have you no mother—no sisters?” Mrs, Charlton asked, looking at her in a bewildered way. “They think me dead, no doubt, and have forgotten me. Iam dead—to them.” ‘How strangely. you talk. Some great — trouble must have befallen you.” ““Yes,” Neria answered, casting down_her gaze. ‘*So great the only wonder is that I am still alive.” Mrs. Charlton’s countenance betrayed per- plexity and curiosity. It was only natural that she should wonder what had so blighted the life of one so young and beautiful. “ Poor child,” she said. ‘‘One of these days you shall tell me something of your history, I — now from your looks it must be a very sad 7 one. But we will wait until you are stronger All I desire just now is to know by what name to address you.” Neria hesitated, What should she say—she who was withoat a name she could rightfully eail her own? “Vou may call me perdu,” she said, very low; adding to herself: ‘‘Perdu means lost; and so am 1—lost to peace and happiness for- evermore,” F Mrs. Charlton did not quite catch the words. ‘“Perdy?” she repeated. ‘I have heard that name before.” Neria suffered the mistake to pass without correction, Thus it was that our hapless heroine became known to her new associates simply as ‘‘ Miss Perdy.” CHAPTER IX. | A MYSTERY IN THE HOUSE. | Days wore on, and Neria began slowly to | convalesce. When she was able to sit up a few hours at 4 time, it was Gilbert Brandon who kept her company even more frequently than did his sister. He bad taken a deep interest in the young girl from the first, Her beauty, ap parent friendlessness, and settled sadness, a) pealed strongly.to his sensibilities, and fastened astrong hold upon his heart, He feit an in- stinetive longing to succor and comfort her, Neria never thought it possible that hari — could restilt from thes interviews. The kind- ness of these new-found friends gave her fresb | hope andcourage. The world seemed a brighter and better place than formerly, and she became? almost reconciled to existence. Ab, kow Gite ferent her life might have been with such it fluences continually thrown around her! On one occasion, when he was rising to Jeave | after an unusually pleasant interview, Neri@ extended ber hand impulsively and said: “y “How can I ever repay you and Mrs. Charl . ton for your many kindnesses to me?”
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& «Do not speak of them,” he answered, “There is nothing you need to remember.” ‘¢} must leave you svon, and it will be a great grief to bid adieu to such pleasant associa- tions,” She spoke frankly, under the impulse of the moment, and was surprised to see him start and lose color. ‘Leave us?” ‘¢Ves,” she replied. ‘IT shall soon be well and strong again. 1am now gaining rapidly.” * But why need you go away?” a A MAN'S Sin. 13 ingly. ‘Ts there nowhere an Eden that grief and suffering have not invaded?’ At last there came a time when she was des- tined to learn more of this secret trouble. On her way to her chamber, one night, a random ust of wind, apparently from an open win- - ow, suddenly extinguished the wax taper she | carried. Hesitating an instant, undecided whe- _She lifted her eyes in amazement at the ques- | ion. “Why? Because I have trespassed too long already upon your kindness. My only claim upon you is the common one of humanity. world. It will never do to remain idle too long. Beaks tq begin looking for a situation without elay.” A brief silence fell, during which Gilbert Brandon seemed to be reflecting. ‘‘What can you do?” he asked, at length. ‘*That is, what do you wish to do?” ‘*‘T have lived as governess in two or threo families already. I can do that again, or find a ana as ‘companion’ to some elderly dy, ; No more was said at the time. But the next day Mrs. Charltoncame to Neria and said: ‘*Gilbert and [ have been discussing your af- fairs. Cragnest is a large house; there ace no hear neighbors, and the city is several miles away. lam often lonely during my brother’s frequent absences from home. We have often talked of bringing some cheerful young person into the house, just to keep me company. How Would you like to remain in that capacity?” Neria’s eyes filled with tears, it was so much better than anything she had expected. What 8 relief still to remain under that happy, peace- ful roof! ‘How good you are!” she uttered. ‘But I ' tear you have made a want just to oblige me.” ' “Oh, no. And what if I bad? It is really Myself who will be accommodated. I receive but little company end should miss you sadly Were you togoaway. Nothing would suit me etter than to keep you with me for the present. ou will stay?’ f course Neria consented. She even felt Srateful to Heaven for opening up such an op- Portunity; for no inward voice whispered a y‘‘iendly warning of the frightful peril into ay hich she was rushing unwitiingly. 1, zragnest was a commodiaus country-house Nilt on the hills, overlocking the Hudson. ‘eria had not mingled freely with the family Many days before she discovered that even this beautiful home had its skeleton. One wing of _the mansion was shut up, and even the servants Shook their heads and looked grave whenever it was mentioned. Mrs, Charlton’s fair brow was often wrinkled 1th anxious care, and Gilbert Brandon’s hand- ne face wore an expres*ion of seti#ed melan. _ *Aoly, as though he had drank deep of the cup borrow, Why is it?’ Neria asked herself, wonder- Be- | Sides, I have my own way to make in the | ther to go on or turn back, she beard the soft patter of naked feet on the floor, and all at once something shadowy and dark sprung upon her with a strange cry, between a shriek and a snarl of rage. Poor Neria was eines | frightened. A scream of terror broke from her lips, and she struggled frantically to break away from the vise-like grasp that held her fast, Despite evory effort, however, the claw-like fingers that clutched her throat closed upon itso tightly her brajn reeled, and she was almost suffocated. is deadly perillasted buta moment, There came a rush of footsteps along the corridor, and Gilbert Brandon appeared, bringing a | light, Neria saw him rush to her rescue; then, for a few seconds, she knew nothing more. When consciousness fully returned, she found herself alone, sitting close to the wall, her head resting against’ a chair, ‘““What can be the meaning of all this?” she thought, leaning forward with clasped hands and a wildly beating heart. Mr. Brandon’s voice came indistinctly to her ears for an instant. He was speaking in the coaxing, supplicating accents ene employs with a wayward child, but the words were inaudible, Finally a door closed in the distance, and even these sounds died away. a2 Neria sat motionless, her eyes dilated with terror. After a long interval there came a glimmer of light at the far-end of the corridor, and Mr. Brandon swiftly.approached. He was as pale as death, the muscles about his mouth twitching convulsively. “Are you hurt?’ he asked, coming close to her side. ‘No, only frightened,” she answered, speak- ing with great difficulty. “It is well. I will see you to the door of your chamber. These corridors are not safo for you after nightfall, it appe rs.” Neria followed on, filled with vague wonder. She sti!l hoped he would offer some explanation of the strange episode, but such was not his in- tention. Placing his own lamp in her hand, he said in an earnest voice at parting: ‘“‘Take my advice, child, and lock your cham- ber door. Lockitsecurely. Never trust your- self a moment in any other way. od- night.” . Sleep had been banished from Neria’s pillow by what had occurred. She tossed restlessly for hours, pondering the strange mystery, but | unable to arrive at a satisfactory solution. She could not divine who the strange being by whor she had been assaulted couid be. The next morning she felt sorely tempted to question Mrs, Chariton, but was at a loss how to begin. The peculiar way in which the lady looked at her wheu they first met, plainly indi- oe P. Bu aa . ier =a » ie
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ee a Sie A MA’ pei ea OI me na ar wc eae cated that she knew all. They were sitting to- gether after breakfast—a meal from wiich Mr. Brandon had absented himself, by the way— - when Neria abruptly said: “You have never told me, madam, why the north wing was shut up.” “The remainder of the bouss is sufficient for aaa use,” was the quiet answer. ‘‘We do ot wish to be burd-ned with the care of so mucb.” - “Tp appears to be the finest portion of the house.” “Yes, some of the rooms are very beauti- ss ** Some day I would like to explore them, if you have no objection,” Neria said, wistfully, __ unwilling to let the subject drop. -. Mrs. Charlton wrinkled her brows in some- thing like a frown. “You would find nothing of interest, my dear. Indeed, the less you have to do with that _ wing the better. Pray do not allude to it - Neria smothered a sigh of disappointment. Ea ag py Beats went or quietly for several days. _ The only perceptible difference was shown in tbe deeper solicitude for the gir’s comfort that _ Mr. Brandon manifested, and the fact that she _ was never permitted to move about the house at night unattended. _ One morning Neria had left the house for a ~ solitary ramble in the grounds, and was pass ‘ng the north wing, when she heard a strange, dis- _ errdant noise above her head, and on looking up beheld a wild, woeful face glued for an in- - stant against the glass. - uch a terrible face! The mere sight of it was enough to curdle the biood in Neria’s veins, an. when a torrent of curses and angry vituper- tions broke from the bloodless lips, she shrunk a appalled. Only a chance word now and then reached the girl’s ,ears, but she was completely un- —nerved. Rallying her failing courage at last by - a terrible effort she rushed ov to a sort of ob- - servatory that bad been built close to the edge of the precipice, and climbing the stairs, threw herself breathlessly into a seat. _ What had she beheld?—what discovery made? Tho was the mysterious being imprisoned in the shut-up chambers of the north wing? _ For some time she sat motionless, revolving these questions in her mind. Suddenly the lit- - tle octagon chamber in which she sat began fill- ing with smoke. It was quite dense, almost _ stiflingly so, before she noticed it at all in her preoccupation. Asshe started up in alarm, the _ sharp, crackling sound of flamessimote upon her a Ss. The truth flashed upon her mind at once. - The building was on fire! __ It had been erected to look down upon the _ river, and was only open on that side. Below was a sneer descent of a hundred feet. Escape in that direction was impossible. Neria rushed _ to the door. Some one had stolen up behind _ her, closing and locking it on the otber side! The ery of uncontrollable terror that rose to her lips as she made this discovery was ‘ echoed by a mocking voice without! Nw pu \ N's SIN. Y >. "4, ne Jee i = CHAPTER X. TORTURED HEARTS, Nenrra instantly comprehended the extent of her peril. {twas the unknown inmate of the north wing who had stolen forth, locked her — into the upper chamber of the observatory, and ~ kindled a fire in the lower room, with the ter- rible purpose of roasting her alive! ; She did not stop to ask herself what could have been the motive impelling to such a deed. The danger was too imminent. Beating ber clinched fists against the door, she shrieked loudly for succor. “Scream away!” cried the jeering voice be- low. ‘‘It willnotavail. Nvery sound of agony makes my heart dance vith joy. Ashes to asbes! In a few moments nothing will be left of your fatal beauty save a few charred and blackened bones!” Neria sickened with horror, ‘‘Help me, oh, Father in heaven!” she cried, with pallid lips. ‘D> not let me perish thus!” That prayer was answered. Hurried foot- steps crossed the lawn, and she heard Mr, Brandon’s voice, as he addressed a few words to the would-be murderess in accents of blended anger and sorrow. ‘*What new madness is this, Fedora? Why is if that you take such pleasure in destroying? Life and property are no Jonger safe where you — are. You will yet compel me to deal severely — with you. It isa mystery how you managed to escape again!” ‘“My master, the devil, helped me,” came the cunning rejoinder. ; ; “T believe be did. But you mustcome back — with me at once. Itis not prudent to leave you at large. Come, that’s a good soul, Fedora.” Tre tone was persuasive, such as one might use to an irresponsible child, The woman — laughed shrilly as she made response; ; “J am ready. Let us go quickly, Gilbert. The old tower is of no consequence; let it burn! It has long been an eyesore—a blot upon the landscape. Come, e me! I wish to be locked up. Make haste, before my mood changes, and the devil gets hold of me again.” She was doing her best to hurry him away. — Poor Neria, whose hearing seemed almost pain- — fully acute at that trying moment, bad caught every word. Mr. Brandon did not suspect her presence in that living tomb! Ho was going away—leaving her to perish! The thought called back her ebbing strength. - Again rushing to the door she beat upon it with both hands, screaming in accents of awful ter-_ ror: ‘Help, help! For God’s sake do not leave me here to be burned alive!” That ery was heard. Heavy footsteps cam? bounding up the stairs—the door was burst 12 with one determined blow, and Gilbert Bran- don sprang aeross the threshold, letting in 9 cloud of smoke and a torrent of hot, stifling air. oe “‘ Who calls?” he cried, unable to see anything for a moment in the thick atmosphere. “Surely Iheard a voice.” . ‘ Then bis glance fell upon Neria. She W' crouchirg on the floor, almost ut bis feet, fal
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and giddy with terror. Uttering a wild cry, he caught ber up. and drew her with a frantic ges- ture to his breast. ‘ ‘ Neria! Ob, my God! This is too dread- ul! Neria felt dazed and bewildered. She could not even struggle in that strong, breatbless em- | brace. She -lay helpless in his arms while he made his way slowly down the staircase. It was already crumbling away. The flames had caught the baluster, and more than once the terrified girl felt their hot breath scorching her cheek. The descent had barely been accom- _ plished when the stairs fell with a loud crash, ; Outside stood the mad, gibbering creature - who had wrought this work of destruction. Neria caught one* glimpse of the wild, livid _ face, and eyes burning with a lurid light, then fainted away. She was lying on the sofa in the back parlor when she recovered, Mrs. Charlton stood over her with a bottle of smelling salts, pale as death, with tears streaming down her face. ‘ “The fire!” Neria panted, starting up, and failing to realize at once her changed situation. “It is coming nearer! My God, I shall be burned alive!” Mrs. Charlton Jaid her hand on the girl’s:| burning brow, trying to soothe her. ‘* Be calm, dear child. You were in danger, but it is over now. There is nothing to fear. Do you not see that this is the old, familiar room where we have spent so many happy “hours, and that I am here beside you?” : “Tdonow. But I was half-crazed with ter- ror. Oh, it was dreadful!” She hid her face in her hands, at the thought of the peril she had escaped, and shuddered con- | vulsively. “That woman saw me enter the tower,” she added, after a thoughtful pause. one of the windows in the north wing when I went by. Ofcourseshe followed me, and set fire to the building for the sole purpose of destroy- ing me. What have { ever done.to gain her en- mity? Oh, why did she do it, Mrs. Charlton? Why did she?” ‘“*The poor creature is mad—not accoun‘ for her own acts,” was the answer. ‘But who is that dreadful woman?” The reply came after a hesitating pause. _‘*A friendless soul my brother shelters out of ity. There is noone else to take an interest in er. I regret exceedingly that she has crossed your path. I hoped to keep youignorant of her very existence. Theservants know that she in- habits the north wing, but they are pledged to 4 k 1 a ever suspects the facts.” Neria lifted her eyes in a perplexed look. ike a prisoner.” “Because it is dangerous for her to run at - large. You can see that for yourself, And there is another reason for the course we pur- Sure—one quite as potent as the first.” lancing quickly round the room, Mrs, Charl- on drew nearer, and added in suppressed tones: I am tempted to tell you more. _ €an be trusted with a secret. That unfortunate “She was at | ble | Secrecy; and no one outside our little household | “‘I do not know why she should be shut up “You are such a sensible person, Miss Pevdy; I know you | woman has.been guilty of a great crime! I need not recount the circumstances connected with it. They are too horrible for me to touch upon. All that has kept Fedora from being in- | earcerated within the gloomy walls of a prison is the fact that the authorities are ignorant of — her existence, It is generally believed that she pare in anaccidens, years ago. Gilbert and have kept her secreted here ever since. You may imagine, words cannot describe, what a burden she has been to us.” ae Mrs. Chariton sighed heavily, the old look of anxious care that Neria remembered so well re- appearing in her face. , = i eal ‘At times Fedora is as rational as either you __ ‘pr I. It would be no easy matter to have ber = adjudged insane. Besides, Gilbert willnot run jhe risk. IJtis a terrible thing for him—” te ‘ She broke off abruptky, a flush rising to her row. ; “T must not talk so much. You have been told all that is necessary.” Wein | Astep now souoded outside the door. Mrs, : “It is my brother,” Charlton turned hastily. a ‘‘ He is very anxious about you, dear, — she said. I shall tell him he may come in.” Ane She was gone before Neria could interpose. Mr. Brandon advanced slowly into the room. He had evidently schooled himself to calmness; his face, though very pale, was grave and al- most stern in its expression. aR ‘‘T am glad to find you so much better, Miss — Perdy,” he said, very quietly. “It wasa nar- — ; row escape; I shudder.to think of it.” te. The words were such as he might have ad-— dressed to a stranger. Just then he ven’ ee to look at her for the first time. Had her manner been composed, like his own, — might have been weli. But her blushes and | embarrassment utterly broke him down. sa “‘Neria! Ob, my darling!’ he cried, flingin himself on his knees before her. ‘Is it bl that myloveisreturned? Ah, this ismore th f expected!” - Neria put up her hand to stop him. She turned sick with terror and ps cog ‘‘Hush!” she breathed. ‘“ You do, not kn what you are saying. Never, never speak | | me like that again!” 7 “J did not intend to speak now,” he an- 'swered, his face distorted with suffering, ‘God forgive me! Iam a wretch. I have no- right to utter such words to any woman, Un, what have I doue? How could I so far forge myself?” J ‘And he struck both hands oS his fore- head with a gesture of intolerable anguish. = CHAPTER XL ue See REVELATIONS. 9 al Se Nerza looked at bim a moment in silence, This sudden burst of contrition surprised and _ startled her. What did it mean? Ignorantas — he was of her own history, it couldonly have __ reference to himself. aes ‘Leave me, Mr. Brandon,” she said, a length, in a faint voice. ‘‘ Youand I can have nothing incommon. This scene is too ] to be protracted.” ee “Do you forgive me?” be asked, huskily, lift- ing his buraite eyes to her face, i r pe i
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/ ~ #* Ror what?” —-- * Hor deceiving you. Of course you have di- -_—-yined the truth—what relation that wretched -- - madwoman bears tome? Oh, it is horrible! I - eannot tell you what I bave suffered through her. It was a mistake not to have told you all long ago! But I meant no wrong; I did not eee my own weakness, and now it is too ; late.’ a There was something appalling in the low pede, cry of agony that broke from his lips. fs _ *J do not understand,” faltered Neria. hat woman--why do you speak of her again?” Ah, how can I tell you?” A sudden conviction drove every drop of blood from Neria’s heart. She is your wife?” “ce Yes.”, He turned away, and strode up and down the room for a while, his features working con- vulsively. Then he confronted Neria again. _ She was sitting motionless as a figure carved in marble, but her eyes were full of a divine com- passion as she lifted them to his face. “T am shocked and grieved by the revelation you have made,” she said. ‘‘ Mrs. Charlton had already told me something of that poor soul— but not all. I pity you. From the depths of my heart I pity you. It must be a terrible _ thing to be linked by destiny with one like “Then you have forgiven me for suffering my heart to go out in love for you while duty and henor bound me to another?” ore there was no response he went on fever- ane “I did not realize my own danger until it wes too late. Years ago, when this trouble to the end. I have so borne itup tothe moment ; vor came among us; The sbame and torment I suffered were hidden in the recesses of my ~ own heart. I withdrew from the world and de- yoted myself exclusively to the care of Fedora, shielding ber in every possible way. I bore pa- - tiently with her ill-temper, waywardness and ae ety jealousies, No man ever tried harder to do his duty. - —s * The struggle has well-nigh broken me down, however. I have grown old and gray in the flower of my manhood. Endurance fails, pa- fience is well-nigh worn out. There must be a limit to all things. I was sick and tired of the ae life long before you came among us, Miss Perdy.” ; Neria started slightly, as she always did on earing the false name spoken unexpectedly, i forward in an,attitude of silent at- tention. _ “No suspicion of danger crossed my mind un- til'the night Fedora assaulted you in the cor- - ridor. Then I awakened suddenly to a realiza- tion of the truth—-that I had learned to love you with a mad intensity of which I had deemed myself incapable. {had not the cour- ~ age to flee from the peril that menaced us both, woever. It seemed tod dreadful to shut out only ray of comfurt that had fallen upon solitary life, I imagined myself strong A MAN'S SIN. | huskily, after a brief pause. “enough to hide my madness fn my own heart forever. Oh, fatal mistake! can never be suppressed!” He hid his face in his hands a moment, strug- gling for_self-control. Neria felt deeply touched, How grand, noble and self-denying this man seemed, even in his sorrow! Unconsciously she compared him with Lawrence, feeling a vague wish that the latter had possessed mere of his attributes. “‘Perhaps I have said too much,” he added, “Tf so, I have only to crave your forgiveness for that, as well as for having loved you. This is the last exhi- bition of folly to which I shall give way. Here- after we will be friends. I Wish you to forget that this episode ever occurred.” He was turning away, his face full of a yearning sadness; but Neria stopped him by a gesture, ‘“*One moment,” she said, with forced calm- ness. ‘‘IThaveaconfession to make in return for yours. If you are guilty, I am immeasur- ably more so. If you have worn a mask, so have I, If you have hidden in your heart a sorrowful secret that was eating your very life away, I know how to sympathize with ou. : ‘What do you mean? Is it possible—” She did not wait for him to continue, ‘*While I have strength to do so,” she re- Love like mine . sumed, dropping her eyes, ‘‘let me tell you why first came upon me, I took up the grievous bur- | den of life, resolved to bear it uncomplainingly | I do not love you, and never could, under any ~ circumstances. My whole heart is given to another! He has proven bimself unworthy, it is true, but love is long-suffering! Even the memory of past happiness is sweeter than any present passion could be, Though you were a free man at this moment, I could never be more to you than a friend.” Gilbert Brandon grew very pale. “TJ have deceived you and Mrs. Charlton— the kindest, best friends I ever had,” she re- sumed, ‘I should have told you all, long ago, but shame sealed my lips. I have no right even to the name If bear.” ““No matter,” he said, catching his breath. “You must have had good reason for imposing upon us one that is not your own,” ‘*Tt came about quite by accident, in the first place. I told Mrs. Charlton she might call me perdu—lost. Itwas a foolish speech, and meant nothing. She failed to catch the word cor- rectly, and ever since I have been known as ‘Miss Perdy.’ The error was allowed to pass uncorrected. What difference did it make? I do not know myself what name rightfully be- longs to me.” r. Brandon looked at her in amazement. ‘** How is that possible?” “Because I am a disowned wife—or worse than that,” She buried her face upon her arms that she might not see the expression of horror and an- guish with which he regarded her. ‘Let me tell my story from the beginning,” she went on, speaking rapidly, with her face still averted. ‘*‘ Years ago my father’s family was one of wealth and influence, Our home ~ was in Washington. We moved in the_best social circles of the city. Reverses came, how- ~%
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A MAN'S SIN, | Bu — mother died; my ‘ather’s health failed, and my sister Edna and [ were thrown upon our own resources, ‘6 was scarcely sixteen at the time. Trouble had changed my father’s whole nature. Ha became exacting and tyrannical. When at length a suitor for my hand appeared in the person of a wealthy old gentleman more than treble my own age, papa would hear to no re- monstrance, but commanded me tv prepare my- self for the marriage without delay. | ‘*T need not dwell upon the scenes that fol- lowed. My whole soul rebelled against the un- | .natural union. Prayers, tears and expostula- | tions were in vain, however. I had my choice to obey, or leave my father’s house forever. “Edna sided with papa. She could not en- dure a life of poverty, and added to my misery by her reproaches and entreaties, She thought I might sacrifice myself for the common ood. wl ou divine the result, perhaps. Unable to | comply with their wishes, I fled one fatal night from home, and going to another city, obtained | a position as governess in a private family. | From that day to this l have never entered my father’s house or heard one word from him or | my sister.” he paused a moment to gather strength. Mr. Brandon stood asif turned to stone, pallid and motionless. The worst was yet to come, Neria’s head sunk lower and lower, and it was in a scarcely audible voice that she finished her story. : Very briefly she spoke of the chance meeting | with Lawrence Gordon, the sudden passion his | handsome face inspired, the rash marriage—or what she took to be one—that followed, the | long, happy months of her sojourn at Lake George, and finally of the terribie awakening | that came to her brief but happy dream when she learned of her lover’s unworthiness, and he | had cruelly deserted her. The wretched man pressed his hands to his | temples more than onee before she concluded. He had drunk deep of the cup of sorrow al- ready, but never had he experienced a moment so full of agony as this. apie ae ‘Poor, poor child!” he said, in a hoarse choked voice. ‘‘How you have suffered! And I have only added to your misery by my un- warrantable folly.” : “Do not reproach yourself; there is no need.” “How can you ever forgive me?” She raised her head, her beautiful eyes shin- ing upon him full of remorse and contrition. ‘It is I who have need of pardon,” she said, humbly. ‘“Ihad no right to efter this house under false pretenses. Had the truth been known, I might not have been harbored here a single day.” ‘Oh, you would, you would,” he answered, earnestly. “Forgive me for having sullied your beauti- te home by re ods Ihave been almost appy here. y troubles seemed less insup Portable. I could not tear myself away at once, I had suffered so much—the yery at- tmosphere was full of peace,” ever; we were deprived of everything. My | | havin | duty. | way of setting things right. a ‘““Neria—” She quickly raised herhand, . “Hush! am not strong as I was once. Please go away. Give me time to reflect calmly upon what has occurred, Then I shall be able to see my way more clearly than at present.” He clasped her passive fingers—even laid them against his cheek for a moment. ‘*God help you,” be said; and so left her. Neria turned her face to the wall with a long, sobbing sigh. Jt seemed as though her ~ last friend bad gone from her. ‘‘Must I tear myself away from even this reteset she murmured, ‘Oh, it is very ard, ‘ CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF FATE. More than an hour went by, and at last a soft, gliding step entered the room, and ap- proached the couch on which Neria was lying, ‘‘Gilbert has told me all,” said Mrs, Charl- ton’s low, sweet voice, ‘‘and I am here to offer my love and sympathy, Your lot has been a bitter one, poor child.’ The girl lifted her streaming eyes to the kind face that bent above her. “Have you no word of reproach to utter for deceived you?” she asked, ‘‘ Not one?”? ‘* Why should I? No one ever inquired very closely into your past history, and it was not to be expected that you would volunteer in- formation concerning it. The only deception you have practiced has been in the silence that — you have maintained.” ‘It was a distressing subject to talk about. I often felt tempted to speak, and knew it was my But my courage always failed when it came tothe test. You had been so kind to me | —I could not endure the thought of cold words as taken his own Tam sure you can bear with me a little longer.” “What do you mean?’ Mrs. Charlton in- quired, struck by the hopelessness of the tone, “Of course ? must leave here at once. must go out into the world to try my fortunes anew.” A slight flush kindled in tho cheeks of the elder lady. ‘Of course you refer to my brother’s unhappy attachment for you,” she said, ‘‘It is useless for us to disguise matters any longer. How unfortunate that you should have won his heart so entirely! I am not surprised, however, You are just the sort of person he could learn to love idolatrously, were every obstacle removed, Poor fellow! what has he not endured!” Then, after a moment given to reflection, she added: “You have decided wisely —you must go away. This house is no longer a proper refuge for you. Deeply as it will grieve we to part with you I cannot urge you to remain.” “Let me go at once—this very hour,” cried Neria, starting up with burning cheeks. “Calm yourself. There isno need of extreme haste. I intend finding you a good position and averted looks. But God _ with some kind person, to recompense you for ‘a Viel a
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ca eee. tn . thing to-morrow morning, and make inqui_ies _ among my friends.” __. Neria fell back again, her eyes flooded with ce ee - 2. * sy “ ER aa do anything you advise,” she said, o, ‘Ys - _ “That is right, dear. 1 know you will find it hard to go among strangers again, but look /to God for encouragement. Ho will give you strength for whatever trials are in store for nF oa _ During the long hours of the night that fol- _ lowed, Neria lay wide awake, thinking of her wrongs, and the fresh trouble that bad arisen. It seemed like a second banishment-to leave _ this comfortable home that she had found so an and go out into the cold, unfeeling world again. . _ Before morning dawned she had succeeded in _ caloung her fevered pulses a little. _ Charlton came up-stairs to sa setting out for the city, Neria had dressed her- self, and was sitting up at the open window, allid and cold, but very calm. “*Take-courage,” whispered the kind lady. You will alwa nd ever to lose sight of you. ‘There are »sts of good people in the world. I hope to find you a home so pleasant you will soon cease to regret the one you leave behind.” _ Tt was dark when Mrs. Charlton returned. ee Salama at once, looking both pleased d relieved. “JT have succeeded even beyond my expecta- tions, dear,” she said. ‘‘ After some inquiries, an old friend referred me to a lady who is de- sirous of securing some agreeable young person oracompanion. Of course I hastened to call n her, and the result is that she has agreed ke you upon trial. You can go to-mor- Neria’s heart beat a little quicker. Ah, if she had but known! “What is the lady’s name?” she inquired, af- ter a brief pause. “Mrs, Gerald Atherton.” _ It awakened no familiar chord in Neria’s mind-—-she had never heard it before. “Mrs. Atherton is somewhat of an invalid,” _ Mrs. Chariton explained. ‘‘Sbe has been mar: ried some months, but her health began to fail long before. It is my opinion that she has con- sumption. She has given up society on account of ber health, and her husband is away on some ission or other in Europe. She leads a lonely eof it, with only servants nthe house, She wishes some one who will prove a pleasant co mpanion, and help enliven the hours of lone- uness, . “Did she think I would suit her?” _ “Very wellindeed. You are just the sort of person she was wishing to secure,” - Of course Neria did not dream of declining the, situation. Mrs. Charlton bad assured her Mrs. Atherton would prove a very de- ble person to be with, and there was noth- gmore required. _ Early the next morning she set out on her short journey. Mrs. Charlton embraced and A MAN'S When Mrs, | good-by before find a friend in me—I do not | SIN, wept over her, exacting promises of frequent visits, but Mr. Brandon did not appear. Neria was spared the embarrassment of a formal parting with him. The Atherton mansion was a large, hand- some house in the suburbs of the city. Tha grounds about it were spacious, and evidently well kept during the proper season. Everything Neria observed indicated the abundant means and good taste of the owner. A well-bred servant ushered her into the spa- cious hall. ‘‘What name shall I say?’ he in- quired, throwing open the door of a small but handsomely-furnished reception-room. Neria hesitated. She could not quite recon- | cile it with her conscience to give a false name, - and yet of course Mrs. Charlton had recom- | mended her as ‘‘ Miss Perdy.” f ‘“* You may tell Mrs. Atherton it is the young | person who has come to be her companion,” she said, at length. The servant bowed, and departed. Neria sunk into one of the luxurious chairs, a strange feeling of nervousness that almost amounted to fear coming over her. It seemed, oddly ea as though-a crisis in her life were at and, Presently the soft rustle of a woman’s gar- ments siruck upon herears. Neria was sitting with her head cast dejectedly down, but she raised it. A lady, tall, graceful and elegantly | dressed, was coming toward her with out- stretched hands. Neria gave a violent start, then sprung to her feet. ‘¢ Edna!” she gasped, her hoarse voice betray- ing surprise, dread and incredulity. Mrs. Atherton took a step nearer. For one moment she stood transfixed, as though sudden- ly turned to stone. Finally a suppressed ery broke from her trembling lips, “My sister! Is it possible that I have found you at last?” And the two so long separated, but now strangely reunited, rushed into each other's arms. CHAPTER XIII OF ONE RACE, Some time elapsed before Neria or Mrs. Atherton could rally from the shock of this un- expected meeting. There were many kisses, tears and loving embraces before at last they became a little more composed. Mrs. Atherton finally threw herself on a low | stool at Neria’s feet. her rich dress trailing the carpet unheeded. She was a very attractive- Bes woman, with a fair, high-bred face, lovely blue eyes, and abundant blonde hair. Jest now her usually pale cheeks were deli- cately flushed with the hectic of excitement. She had taken both Neria’s hands in her own, and while clinging to them, was looking up into the girl’s face with a gaze full of tenderness and eager curiosity. ; ip “ How strange it seems that my hired com- panion nbeeid Boeke to be my own sister,” sho_ — ‘ exclaimed. can scarcely realize the fact / even yet. Tell me howit happens that you* were reduced to the extremity of seeking such a position.” , Leer yay igs tat ; 5. cA a) a “) Ys :
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A MAN'S SIN. ee inert ee “ What else couldI do? I was friendless and penni- less when I left my father’s house.” “Oh, why did you ever go away?” Haas dropped her eyes with a look of gentle re- roach. i, Would you have wished me to remain, and wed the man papa had selected for my husband, know- ing as I did that I should always dislike him?” “Perhaps you acted wisely. But why did you nev- er come back, or even write to us?” “It was my intention to cut en:irely loose from the old life,” Neria answered. “ You were always a little headstrong, Neelie.’’ Neria started at the sound of the familar pet name. It was one by which her sister had always address- ed her. What en eternity had passed since she last heard it. It was Mrs. Atherton who broke the brief silence that fell between them. “ What changes have occurred sines you left us,” she exclaimed. “Iwas living in Washington then, and had no idea what my future would be. Pepaal- ways urged me to eng fs a man of wealth and posi- tion, however, and sol have. You ar2 not to infer that I wedded Gerald for his money, though. It is not true—I love him devotedly.” Neria did not even see the slow flame that kindled in her sister’s eyes. : “Papa?” she gasped. “I have heard nothing of him in all these years. Nothing!’ Mrs. Ath2rton’s fate took on a sad expression. ‘Prepare yourself for bad news,” she said. ‘‘ Poor papa is dead.” “ Dead?” “Yes. He died more thanayear since. But his last words were of you, expressing a desire for your forgiveness. He felt that he had been severe and un- just in his dealings with you.” Neria’s tears fell fast. * How sad,” she murmured, ‘I was not permitted to receive his dying blessing.” “There is more to tell,’ Mrs, Atherton resumed. “Do you remember having heard papa speak of a very eccantric old lady, Mrs. Faunce, who was mam- mas aunt?” ‘Sas is almost fabulously rich, and has no near heirs to her immense fortune. Well.who should ap- pear unexpectedly at papa’s funeral but this same Mrs. Faunce. She resides here in New York, and brought me home with her, Before a month e.apsed she had formally pid me.”’ Neria’s surprise and pleasure were very great. ‘¢You have been fortunate,” she gently said. “But I never forgot you, Neelie,even for a mo- ment. After the change was effected I sought you more anxiously than ever, theugh secretly. Aunt Faunce became almost as much interested as myself in the search. We left no m2ans untried to find you, But’ you had dropped the family name it ap- pears. Mrs. Charlton called you ‘Miss Perdy,’ I beliave—” “That was not the name I took at first,’’ Neria in- terrupted, ‘‘Of course I did not wish it known that I was one of the Thorntons, of Washington; there- fore I took the name of Granger.” “What a dreadful life you must have led! But it is all over and past. I have found you, and we will never be separated again. Ishall take care of ui? “ Wait,” said Neria, putting up her hand with an expression of pain. ‘Make no rash promises. You. coped feel differently when you have heard my story. Mis Atherton looked surprised. - “T don’t know why Ishould. We are sisters, and I would do anything in the world for you. But pro- _ceed with what you have tosay. Even the most a aid in your experience will be of interest me. Neria knelt down beside her sister, and with her face hidden on the latter’s shoulder told all the story of her later years—how Lawrence Gordon had _ met, married and then discarded her, wrecking life — oe pzace, and well nigh breaking her tortured ~_ ears. Blin |; The horror with which Mrs. Athertonlistened to — the tale can bo better imagined than described. , “The wretch! the cowardly villain!” she exclaim- ed, almost beside herself. ‘* How dared heso trifle with a person of your birth and breeding? The ~ name Thornton of itself should have been sufficient — to shield you.” ‘*Recollect, Lawrence never..knew it was mine,” Neria answered, between hysterical sobs. ‘*Some whimsical feeling prevented me from telling him until it was too late. It was only as Neria Granger, - the governess, that he knew me.” - “No matter. Wicked, heartless villain! He must have seen that you were a lady, despite the menial position you filled.” Mrs. Atherton rose, and walked up and down the room in great excitement. ‘“‘The facts connected with the marriage shall be thoroughly investigated!’? she exclaimed. “Who ~- knows but it was perfectly legal, despite that man’s assertions to the contrary?” Her emotion subsided after a little, she was able to discuss the matter more quietly. Presently she took Neria up-stairs and showed her the pretty suit of rooms that had been fitted up for her own use: “My husband is very fond of me; he surrounds me with every luxury,” she said. ‘* How unfortun- ate that he should be away! He would know just what to advise. Ah! it would kill me if he were to abandon me as you have been abandoned.” **T believe it would.”’ ‘*But he is incapable of such baseness. You do not know how kind and good he is. It was a great trial for him to leave me even for a few weeks, to go to Europe on a matter of business.” y _ Neria made no reply. She was mentally contrast- — ing her sister’s hapny lot with her own. : *T will show you Gerald's picture,” Mrs. Atherton said, after a pause. “Itis the only one in my pos- session. Here itison ihe mantle, I keep it where I can run at any time and Joo < at it.” She lifted it eagerly. and was coming forward to display it when the bit of paintel ivory slipped through her fingers and fell upon the glowing coals in the grate. Instantly it was blackened and discol- ored past recognition. =! Acry of dismay broke from Mrs. Atherton’s lips, She sunk upon a chair, bursting into hysterical tears. / “How careless of me! And I wanted so much that you should see it! The accident altiostseems like an evil omen.” a CHAPTER. XIV. A SUDDEN ADOPTION. j Tre morning hours slipped away unnoticed by the reunited sisters. They had so much to say to each 4 other! There were a thousand questions to beask- ed, and as many more to be answered. The abrupt ringing of the dinner-bell startled them both. “So late!” Mrs. Atherton exclaimed, looking at her watch. ‘‘I had no idea how rapidly time was flying, We must make haste to dress, Where are your boxes?” : “ Down-stairs.” Neria replied. and brought it in the carriage with me. ~e Mrs. Atherton rung for a servant, and ordered the ; box to be brought up. The instant it wasunlocked — she drew out the poor, plain garments it contained, tossing them disdainfully aside, one by one, eee 3 “There is really nothing fit to put on. Idon’t — know how you could ever make up your toons wear such dreadful things, Neelie.”’ % ; “They are the best I could afford,” es have but one, ’ rae ane ie
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* c ~ fell, you shall never wear them again. I will ou some of mine, until you can get an outfit q Ree te arta the wardrobe, she took down a plain blue with trimmings of creamy lace. Neria remon- trated. Mrs, Atherton would not hear to it, how- wr eve re My husband’s mother is in the house—you will et her at dinner,” she said. under these circumstances Neria felt compelled to Once arrayed as her sister desired, she ely knew her own reflection in the mirror, how- but blushed and drew back. “This is my sister Neelie,” Edna said, not deem- ‘it necessary to make an elaborate explanation. think you have heard me speak of her, madam. as returned quite unexpectedly, and will re- with me in future.” herton merely bowed, but her countenance ressed interest and curiosity. ow Edna is delighted to see you,” she said at still scanning the girl’s face attentively. uu have heen a Jong while separated?” Very long,” Neria answered, just above her as inwardly ne. Something in the ice set every nerve in her being aquiver. d under what circumstances had she heard sr ended, and%the problem still remained un- ough it had perplexed her mind every mo- : time. rer meet Mrs. Atherton years ago, when edin Washington?” she inquired. was the answer. 1ess to him that impresses you.” se not,” Neria replied, in a dreamy tone. Iknew who it could be.” next morning an unexpected visitor made pearance. It was no less a person than Mrs. e, the great-aunt to whom Edna had once or rred, She was a withered little woman of with a wrinkled though not unpleasant face. ing unceremoniously into the chamber where ers were sitting, she stopped short with a ejacu'ation of surprise, on seeing that pet alone, ae: ‘ho is this? Seems to me T ought to know but I don’t. Edna, er lighten me ”’ The young wife came forward, flushing with pleas- ‘ ‘Look ain, dear aunt Faunce,” she said. “ It r ost sister, It is Neelie.”’ ejaculated the old lady; starting back e had been shot. | © wonder you are surprised. I could elieve the evidence of my senses. It is ance. 1 was wish‘ng to hire a companion, now, and Neelie came for the situation. She dea that Mrs. Athertcen was her own sister!”’ irs. Faunce was staring at the girl with an odd in her bright, black eyes. it true?” she uttered, ‘ Are you Neelie Thorn- 3s, madam.” agin to believe it. But what possessed you er not talk about it, if you please,” MAN'S SIN. - | wish of your heart need remain ungrati ied, Neria answered, a pathetic little quiver in her voice, “Tf I did wrong, I have been + ufficiently punished.” *i’m glad you got your deserts. But where have you kopt yourself all these years?” Neria turned her face aside without replying. ‘* My poor sister has a very sad story to tell, Edna interposed. ‘‘ You must be. very gentle with her, aunt Faunee.”’ “Gentie? Fiddlesticks! I shall treat her as she deserves—no better, no worse. So,’ again fixing her gaze on the trembling girl, ‘“‘you did not find it so pleasant as you imagined fighting the world alone?”’ * No, madam.”’ “‘Humph! Tell me all about it.’ Mrs. Faunce threw berself into a chair, assuming a listening attitude. But Neria could not speak at once, she was so choked with emotion. “Go on,” said the old lady impatiently. like to be kept waiting.” “Let me tell her,”’ said Edna, gently drawing her sister aside. ‘‘ You are not equal to the task. I know the outlines of the story, and you can add the details some other time ”’ In a few touching words Edna related the romance of the poor wrecked life that had been bligl ted in its early b plaz ora Mrs. Faunce listened silently till the end. ‘*Bless me!” she cried, at last. ‘*‘ What+«an expe- rience for a chit of a girl like you!” Then, brushing one bony hand across her eyes, she added, in a more determined tone: “Dreadful! I never heard anything like it. So that seamp married you, or pretended he did, then ran away and left you to: hift foryourself? I could shake the villain! But we are not done with him et. We'll hunt him down! I'll put every lawyer in New York on his track. The wretch shall be pun- ge 1 promise you, for what ke has made you suffer.’ Neria’s beautiful face grew white with anguish. “T have no desire for vengeance,”’ she said. “What comfort could it bring me? All Task is the privilege of passing the remnant of my days in peace and retirement.” ‘“Mhe validity of the marriage shall be tested, at allevents. Have you a certificate?” “Thad one. But he—Lawrence—took it away.” Mrs. Faunce trembled with indignation. “TI am not surprised,” she cried. ‘The wretch was too cunning to leave any proof behind. What you say only confirms me in the opinion that the marriage is valid. Neria put her hand to her head—everything seem- ed to be whirling around her. Whatif it should be true? What if the dreadful disgrace that had cloud- ed her life should be swept ie ‘Oh God, what a burden would be lifted from my aching heart!’ she thought. ; “Leave me to manage this business for you,” Mrs. Faunce resumed, a red spot burning in either cheek. ‘““T know how to deal with cowards and miscreants. Justice shall be done. All I require is a few names and dates, and a description of the place where the ceremony was performed, I shall consult with my confidential lawyer before I sleep. We will prove the marriage valid, then shake our fists in the young man’s face. He may go his own way afterward, and we will go ours.” ; For along time afterward Mrs. Faunce sat with- out speaking She was evidentiy revolving some problem in her mind. The girl’s sad histo and forlorn situation had touched her heart, and ske was not one whose sympathies were ever enlisted in vain. , “Bdna,” she said, abruptly, turning to Mrs. Ather- ton, ‘‘I have something to propose. You are mar- ried to a rich husband who loves you devotedly, ae ““T never not so?” s i Soa “Yes,” the young wife answered, opening her beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise,
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= A MAN'S SIN. - i “You are sufficiently rich in this worl’’s goocs without taking anything I may have to give? And ig Neria has notuing. She is literally a beggar. ow Lam coming to the point at issue. I have al- ready acknowledged youas my heiress. How would it please you to step down and out of the position that your sister may occupy it in your stead?” A moment’s silence followed the question, Edna was not a selfish person, however, and she said neartily: “T should like it above all things, aunt Faunce. My sister needs your money, and | do not. By all mans make her your heiress. [hope you will.” Neria began to remonstrate, but the old lady re- fused to listen. “The matter is settled,” she said, in a tone of de- cision, ‘‘ We understand our mutual positions with- out further words. I shall remember you hand- somely in my will, Edna, but the bulk of my fortune will go to this homeless and friendless child. Here- after she sha!l be as.a datighter to me.” Mrs, Faunce laid her hand caressingly on Neria’s bowed head, tears filling her stern old eyes. “T trust we shall learn to love each other very dearly,” she added. “I know I can love you if you will only let me.” CHAPTER XV. THE LULL BEFORE THE TEMPEST. Nerta could searcely realize the fact of the change in her cireumstances. It seemed like a dream, Nearly all her thouzhts, however, centered upon the one question of the validity of the marriage ceremony that had been performed a year before in one of the little out-of-the-way churches of New Orleans, Mrs. Faunce’s decisive words had restored hope to her iespondent heart. Might it not be possible, after all, that Lawrence had deseived her, and she was his lawful wife in spite of his cruel denial? “ Heaven grant it,” she thought. Going down-stairs the next morning, after a sleep- less night, she found Edna poring over an open let- ter. The young wife’s cheeks were like roses, and her eyes shone with subdued happiness. ‘Good news,” she said, looking up with a smile as Neria entered. “I have a letter from my hus- hind. Heis coming home!” ** Very soon?” “ He will be herein a week at the latest. Iam al- most wild with joy. Gerald is so brave, so noble, so handsome! It would be impossible not to love him.” ‘ Have you written to tell him I am here?” ‘Not yet;:and now it is too late. He has, perhaps, set out alraady on the return voyag>. No matter. It will be a pleasant surprise for him.” ‘Of course he knows that you have a sister?” E.lna’s bright face saddened a little. “No,” she replied. ‘‘ He isa proud man, and has p2culiar notions of propriety. 1 could never quite bring myself to tell him the story of your flitting. It was not until recently that Mrs. Atherton knew anything of it.” The elder Mrs. Atherton entered at this instant. The three repaired to the breakfast-room together. Later in the day Edna ordered the carriage. So much shopping must necessarily be done to equip Noeria for her changed position, it was deemed best to begin at once. They had gone the rounds of the leading shops, and purehased any amount of costly silks and laces —whatever Edna admirad, for Neria scarcely felt or expressed a wish in the matter. At last their faces were turned toward home. There was but one more call to make—at a fashion- able dressmaker’s where Edna had some orders to leave. While this was being done, Neria remained Outside, sitting in the carriage. She was gazing listlessly down the street when some one crossed from the other side. It was Gilbert Brandon. Neria’s pulses throbbed deliriously as she watched him approach. ‘His pale, noticed her changed appearance. ~ “7 thought I recognized you,’ he said, quietly, “and could not go by without speaking. ou are pec better and happier than when I saw you ast.’ She laid her hand in his outstretched Seger “T have strange news to impart, Mr. Brandon, something that will surprise you very much.” ‘‘Does it concern your—your—”’ “Ts concerns my friends, those from whom J haye “T have found my sister.”’ - : “That is good news, indeed.” . don listened with eager interest. He made no at- tempt to conceal bis pleasure that Neria had found two such protectors as Mrs, Atherton and Mrs. Faunce. ; ‘*T have pondered deeply on your sad story since you went away,” he said, in a low voice, “and the desire to be of service to you has been very eiong have sought you out. Your wrongs should be re- dressed. I might be able to do something—” He paused, looking at her with wiattul Derma a The subject was a very delicate one, and so he felt it. ‘““You are very kind,” Neria said, gently: ‘* But there is no need to trouble you, M newly-found relatives will do all that is necessary.’ ‘*T am glad to hear it.” He held her hand a moment longer in his clasp, then sighingly released it and departed. steps. Neria noticed with a sudden pang how tired and haggard her sister looked. A spot of hectie slightly, while resuming her seat in the carriage. ‘*Are you ill?”’ Neria inquired. ‘Only a little tired,” was the answer. so strong as I was once,” ‘* You should call in medical advice.” “There is no necessity. But for the pain in my side and chest, and the cough I have, I should be perfectly well.’ Neria gave a frightened start. of it before?’ “Tt only troubles me at night. ror-stricken, dear. Ihave no ailment worth mind- not get over the shoek of her changed looks and of the revelation. that had been made, however. She thought of nothing else during the homeward drive. ‘My mother died of consumption,” she said to herself. ‘ How terrible it would be for Edna to go in the same way.” : ; She mentally resolved to consult with Mrs. Faunee at once, and see what could be done to persuade her sister to call in a physician. Nearly a week went by before Mrs. Faunce reas- peared, however. “ The sisters were sitting alone, one morning, when she suddenly burst into the room in her characteristie way. : ““T pring good news at last,”* she cried, running up to Neria. and kissing her on the forehead. “That is what I have been waiting for. A letter came last night from the agent my lawyer sent to New Or- leans. He found the chapel easy enough, and now he mony—’ : She paus , for Neria had fallen back in the chair, ale and faint. “Go on,” gasped the wretched girl. worst of it. The marriage—” “Ts it valid?” almost pedleked Neria. handsome face wore an expression of surprise as he been so long separated,” she hastily interrupted, Briefly she related what had occurred. Mr. Bran- in my heart. But for thisaccidental meeting Ishould He had scarcely gone when Edna came down the — burned in either cheek, her eyes were feverishly _ bright, and she held one hand to her side, panting — t “Tam not* Pp “Do you havea cough? Why did.you not speak Don’t look so ter- — ing.” ; ' Bana laughed carelessly as she spoke. _Neria could — he has stumbled upon the very man who performed — “Then you must try to bear it a little better. Tt is a sad case, child, but that wretch will get the —
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Mrs. Faunce answered. a: The epee girl sat as if stunned. *Te)] me how that could be,” she faintly articu- ed at last. ! “Tt appears that the scamp, Gordon, resorted to a _ruse that other wretches like him have used in simi- _larcases. He hired a reckless devil to personate the priest. The tool proved a trifle less vile than his ers, however. His heart misgave him before the hour appointed for the ceremony arrived, _“ What did he do?” “Called in a bona fide priest at the last moment, anda legal marriage was performed!” a & [ ank God!” < Neria’s heart beat almost audibly for a few mo- ts. She was a wife—there was no longer any ( on to blush, or hicie her head in shame. _ “There is but-Jittle more to tell,’’ Mrs. Faunce - resumed. “Nothing can be more certain than that B lid marriage was solemnized. You are the law- ife of that unworthy scamp. The fact must be iblished to the world, my dear, then we will pro- 2a divorce as quickly as pees But enough What I set out to tell you was that Law- Gordon did not marry you under his true eria sat speechless, but her eyes were fastened 1 Mrs. Faunce’s face, and in a look that demanded ing. ly agent did not discover his true name,”’ the Jady continued; “but he is on the track, and ] 9 do so in the course of aday cr two.” Neria uttered no word in response. The fF speech seemed suddenly denied her, She be alone—to gain time, to realize what the on she bad heard meant to her. Silently ing her sister and Mrs. Faunce to leave the . she buried her face in her hands, and sat r hours. length the dcor opened, and Edna entered She brought in a telegraphic aispatch that , been received, , hove heard blessed news,” she cried, ex- ey. “The steamer is already in the harbor. Gerald, my husband, will be with me in an Lour.” CHAPTER XT. + THE STORM BURSTS. 9 sixty minutes had ever seemed so long to Edna on asthose following the receipt of the dis- announcing the coming of her husband, . She not remain quiet anywhere for two consecu- t eS. attired herself in a cream-colored silk, placing hite rosebuds and hetiotrope blossoms iv her hair. Ww costume that Gerald greatly admired and hyn a thly lovely. did sh f i yressibly love id she appear, a soft ovine in her cheeks, and ber eyes shining happy light of love and joyous anticipa- ‘all was in readiness, she re-entered Neria’s ber for a few last moments. ‘‘ Don’t think me for manifesting my happiness so openly,” nme cs: throwing her ‘arms about Neria’s _“*My heart is singing for joy. I could not it to myself if I tried.” hy should you?” Neria gently answered. ‘‘ Do let my troubles sadden this blissful hour. For- et them. I will rejoice with you if I can.” _ Edna breathed a half-suppressed sigh. _ * You will love Gerald too, when you know him.” ‘Don’t tell him my story at once,” Neria said, sudden shudder. “The first hours of his ¢ home must not be saddened with it.” yes,”’ Edna answered in a soothing tone. ‘‘T ; to him that my darling sister Neelie has course he will be very much surprised, : % f dS te ie hs much so as the laws of the land can make it,” SS eee pn I can put him off with a few words of explan- ation. She started up and began to walk nervously back- ward and forward in the room. ‘*Of course I must have him to myself for a little while. He has been away so long! Jt is only a few et to be sure, but it seems like as many years. She broke off abruptly, and pressed her hand upon her heart. At that n:oment there came the sound of carriage- wheels on the drive below. ‘*Heis here!” she exclaimed, growing almost faint, with joy and excitement. Edna instantly Jeft the room. ‘Neria heard her fleet step on the stairs, the bolts ef the door shot back, then a suppressed cry of rapture. That was all, for she ran into her dressing-room and shut her- selfin. Thethought of her sister’s happiness turned her sick. More than an hour wore on. At last some one knocked for admittance. Jt was Edna’s maid. “My mastcr and mistress are in the drawing- room,” the girlsaid. ‘‘Mrs. Atherton has sent for Sitor! She would like to introduce you to her hus- and.” . Neria arose and began hastily to arrange her dis- ordered drcss. * Pell my sister that I will come down at once,” she said. She felt more unnerved than ever now that the moment had core. At the drawing-room door, which stood slightly ajar, she paused a moment. Edna was speaking, and every word reached her ears distinctly. “*T know you will not scold me, Gerald, for never having spoken of my sister Neelie before. She left home under peculiar circumstances; going out asa common governess, No Thornton had ever before done anything of the sort. I am both proud and sensitive, and could never bear to speak of the cir- cumstances to you—” “Ttis of no consequence,” came the answer, as she hesitated for an instant. ‘‘I understand ycur feelings, darling, and shall think no less of yun for oe indiscretion of which ycur sister has been guilty.”’ . At the first tone of that voice Neria started, he face grew ashy white, and she pressed her hancs tightly upon her heart. Great God! What dic it mean? Did her ears deceive her, or had she all at once gone mad? Panting, bewildered, sick with terror, she made a desperate effort. and finally succeeded in dragging her benumbed limbs forward a few steps so that she could see into the drawing-room through the crev- ice in the half-shu door, Gerald Atherton stood directly in the range of her vision, one arm lovingly encircling Edna’s waist. “My God! Bawrence Gordon!” The stiffening lips could scarcely frame the words. They were uttered in so lowatone that the two within the room heard no sound. Neria comprehended all at once. He who had won her love under a false name, and nearly broken her heart by his infamous treatment, was Gerald Ather- ton, the husband of her own sister! 4 ze discovery almost killed her. ul! She never knew how she succeeded in dragging herself back to her chamber. She felt bewildered, and more than half-suffocated. There was a ring- ing in her ears, and everything seemed to be whirl- ing around her. Edna, waiting below for her sister to appear, grew impatient at last and went in search of her. Just as her foot touched the stair, she heard the sound of something falling overhead, Full of anx- ious forebodings, she ran hastily to her sister's chamber The sizht that met her startled gaze brought a shriek of terror to her lips. lay poor Neria, pallid and still as death, Ul a2 It was dread- Extended on the floor : 4 x “
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A A WOMAN’S DESPAIR. Epna raised no alarm. Some feeling for which she would have been unable to account, made her solicitous to conceal from everybody the fact of: her sister’s sudden illness. Locking the coor she suc- | eeeded, with some difficulty, in dragging Neria to : the sofa, then hastily applied such restoratives as were at hand. ' Some moments elapsed before the wretched girl opened her eyes. She sat up, and after looking about the room in a bewildered way, pressed her hands to her temples, “Tt was nodream,” she said. Edna drew near, trembling and unnerved, ‘* What is the matter? Why did you faint? ’ she inquired. Neria pushed away her clinging hands with a shudder. “TI cannot tell-you,’’she answered. ‘I can not. Something dreadful has happened to me. Go away for a little while. Giv>+ me time to think it over.”’ Edna looked puzzled and troubled, but it would have been cruel to refuse compliance with that urzent request. ; Left alone, Neriatried to think calmly of the dis- covery she had made She felt numb and ewil- dered, like one suddenly awakened from a frightful dream. The reality seemed too horrible for belief. The man she had loved was under that very roo’, the husband of her own sister! “Lost. lost to ms, forever,” she murmured. ee aa hope—farewell, happiness! This is the end, Suddenly she struck her hand against her fore- head. Was it the end? Tho facts connected with her unfortunate marriage had been investigated! The lawyer’s agent had pronounced it valid. By every right, legal and divine, Gerald Atherton was her Qusband, and not Edna’s! All she had to do was to claim him as such. “No, no, no!’? she moaned. “TI can do nothing s> cruel, Edna loves him even better than I cid before the knowledge of hs wiworthiness came home to me. She must not be made to suffer as [ have done.” Tho minutes wore on. It was ona of those terri- die crises that come sometimes—not often—in tha lives of mortals. No matter wnat step she took next—it would tell for time and eternity. Over ani over again she rehearsed all ‘he circum- stances of the case. If the lawyer’s agent had told the truth, she could tak> her place in the world as Mrs. Atherton, without a blot upon her name. But—Edna! : It was the thought of her sister that unnerved er, “She is not strong—it would prove her death-blow if the truth were to be suddenly revealed to her,” Neria thought. ‘I cannot sacrifices my own sister— Teannot! She must never, never know.” Edna again made her way to the chamber above, hoping to find Neria ore recovered, Tae night dragged its slow leneth along, but e when the next morning broke, Neria had not ro herself sufficiently to offer any explanation. — At ten o’clock a quick, impatient ring came bell. Neria started up with a shudder, _ “Tt is Edna,” she exclaimed. ‘ Don’t 1 3
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7: 7 oA A MAN'S SIN. Mrs. Faunee looked curiously at the agitated girl. * Sbe could not even conjecture what had come be- tween the sisters. “Calm yourself,’? she said. ‘*You shall see no one that you wish to have kept away.” A servant entered with a message. ‘‘ Some one to see you, madam,”’ he said, addressing Mrs. Faunce. “He told me to say that he came in reference to that New Orleans business—”’ Neria understood, and started up eagerly. New revelations had, perhaps, come to light. If her secret was to be kept, the time had come for action. “Aunt, Faunce, let me see this man,” she im- plored. @1 can conjecture why heis here. Itis a matter that concerns me more than anybody cise in the world. Suffer me to go down alone and hear what your agent has to say.” Mrs. Faunce started. Was the girl taking leave of her senses? ‘* You are unequal to such an interview, my dear,” ‘she objected. “Tam stronger than you think, Do not cress me inthis. There is more at stake than you imagine. Forgive me for keeping anything back. It is un- beg tee when you have been so kind, so helpful. ut there is no other way. See what Isuffer! Itis almost a matter of life or death with me. You have not the-heart to refuse. Iam going, and alone! It must beso.” She had almost reached the door by this time. Mrs. Waunce hesitated, but only for an instant. “Be it as you will,” she said, breathing a heavy sigh, ‘* God knows Ihave only your best interests at heart.” Neria. had regained her self-control when she reached the drawing-room door. A mancame quick- ly forward as she entered. “Tt was Mrs. I'aunce for whom I asked,” he _ said, an expression of surprise flitting over his face. ‘You can speak freely,’ Neria replied. ‘ This af- fair concerns me more than anybody else. Iam here with my great-aunt’s knowledge and consent.” A +e den light seemed to break upon the man's mind. ** You are not the poor lady who has been so woe- fully deceived?” he stammered. “T am Mrs. Lawrence Gordon.’ She drew her hand across her forehead, and went on rapidly, as though fearful that her strength might give way: ‘* We will make this interview a brief one, if you please. Ihave only to exact a promise from you. ' Of course you aré here because you succeeded in the mission to New Orleans, and have learned the true name and position of the man I married in that city? “ “Yes,” he replied, looking at her with wondering eyes. ‘1 know everything.” “So do I,” Neria answered calmly. Then dropping her hand upon his arm, she added, in a low, impressive tone: “Now for the promise to which I referred. The secret you have discovered must remain forever locked within your own breast. I would rather die than have Mrs. Faunce or the world know that Law- rence Gordon and Gerald Atherton are one and the same! Swear tome—you must—that the fact shall never be divulged by your lips! Nothing less will satisfy me. Swear it!” He hesitated. ‘‘Something is due my employ- er-— . “Mrs, Faunce is good and kind,” Neria interrupt- ed. ‘She will respect my wishes in this matter. It was Solely for my sake that you were sent on this mission at all. Noone hasaright to deny me the rivilege of suppressing the facts t’ at have come to Tient, and they must be suppressed.” The man appeared more astonished than ever. “Of course I must yield,” he said reluctantly. ‘But forgive me for saying so, madam—you are standing very much in your own light.” Neria rose with a gesture of utter weariness, She could not haye held out much longer, ““T have weighed the matter well, and this is the on. course I could bring myself to pursue.” She felt as though a great load had been lifted from her heart when he was gone. Edna, her beau- tiful, proud sister, must be saved at all hazards. She should never know the horrible truth—that it was her life upon which this crushing load of shame and sorrow had fallen. The opening of the door aroused her from the reverie into which she ha’ fallen. Mrs. Faunce came forward, looking troubled and anxious, and drew up a chair beside her. ““T expect you to tell me everything, child,” said the old woman. ‘I am your best friend—what did my agent have to say to you?” ‘He had succeeded in his mission. That is allI ean tell you. Sufferme to keep my little secret dear aunt Faunce. Were it not wisest and best. I should never dream of concealing anything. Only trust me, Unable to withstand such pleading, Mrs. Faunce on only sit and glare half-fiercely at the young girl. ‘This is incomprehensible,’ she exclaimed. ‘ At the very moment when the way is paved to have ample justice done, you turn about and forbid me to take another step! Well, I must submit until you come to your senses again, I suppose. I doit very reluctantly, however.” An hour or two later, a close carriage rolled up to the door, Neria hastened to the window and looked out. She sawher sister alight, leaning lovingly upon Gerald’s arm. Oh, how her heart ached at the sight! It was he? rightful place—one that she might claim at any moment she felt so disposed. She had barely time to lock the door before Edna’s clear, sweet voice became audible in the hall. “Where is Neria? Is she here? It gave me a dreadful start when I discovered that she had gone away in the night.” The low murmur of Mrs. Faunce’s voice came in response. “Yes, Neria is not herself. Trouble has unsettled her reason, I fear. She came to me for shelier and comfort. Poor tt.ing, she is resting now, and must not be disturbed.” “ Oh, let me see her, if only for a moment,” plead- ed Mrs. Atherton. But Mrs. Faunce remained firm. ‘* Another time, my dear. Neria is under my care just at present, and shall not be annoyed.” : The unbappy girl heard no more. Throwing her- self into a chair, as far away from the door as possi- ble, she buried her face upon herarms, That sorely- tried heart had well-nigh given way. CHAPTER XIX. AWAKING FROM A DREAM. Tr was not without a vague foreboding of some terrible calamity that Edna Atherton left Mrs. Faunce’s bouse after the unsuccessful attempt to gain an interview with her sister. There was something mysterious and suspicious about the whole affair. The instant they reached home, and found them- selves alone in the pleasant back parlor where they preferred to sit, she made up ber mind to tell Gerald everything. It was he himself, who, wholly uncon- scious of what was coming, prepared the way for the disclosure. : : “ How grave and silent you are, darling,” he said. ‘‘Porgive me for saying so, but you are troubling yourself too much over your sister’s whimsical con- duct in leaving the house so abruptly. 1’m afraid she does not deserve the solicitude you waste upon her.” Edna leaned her head against his shoulder, and the tears she had vainly tried to suppress, burst forth. ‘“ Don’t say that,’ she cried. my darling Neelie.”” “She does not appear very anxious to make my “You do not know
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A MAN'S SIN. 28 acquaintance, or she would not avoid me so persis- ad ten ys he dryly answered. YP was an innocent girl more foully wronged.” Gerald felt the blood come into his cheeks. He was a proud man, and did not like that word spoken in connection with his wife’s sis- Wronged! ter. “What do you mean?” he demanded. ** Let me tell you Neria’s story,”’ Edna said, gent- ly. “Then you will understand—” The name she had spoken fell on his ears like a clap of thunder from a clear sky. * Neria!’’ he interrupted, in a strange voice. ‘That is my sister’s real name. ways called Neelie at home; I call her so still.” He put out his trembling hand. A faint suspicion of the truth had dawned upon his mind, filling it with horror unutterable. “Tell me the story,’’ he panted. ‘ At once,’’ Edna did not observe the convulsive shudder that ran thrqugh her husband’s frame, but began in a low voice to give the outlines of Neria’s pathetic history. Before it was half finished, Gerald had pushed her from him almost roughly, risen to his feet, and was pacing the floor with hurried, uneven strides. ‘‘T am not surprised to see you so moved,” Edna paused to say, happily unconscious of the real cause “*T felt very indignant myself. It is hard to believe that such cowardly villains as this of his emotion. Lawrence Gordon really exist!" ‘Banish tho recital,’’ Gerald exclaimed, turning ““T am anx- The shock came so suddenly and unexpectedly he had almost round and glaring fiercely at his wife. ious to be done with it.” His mind wandered in a wild chaos, betrayed himself. *“ Aunt Faunce has taken a deep interest in my sister,” Edna continued, ** and will do everything in her power to right her wrongs. She has already de- cided to adopt Neria, and leave the bulk of her large fortune to her, rather than to me, who do not need it ” Gerald felt like breaking into a volley of curses, How surely his sins were finding him out! It was the wealth Edna expected to inherit that had in- duced him to make her his wife. “The most singular part of the story remains to be told,’? Edna resumed, in blissful unconsciousness “You know Well, she made up her mind at once that justice should bs ' done my poor sister, and sent an agent to New Orleans, where the marriage was solemnized, that of the full significance of her words. what a resolute woman aunt Faunce is, the affair might be fully investigated.” self turn sick with dread and apprehension, . ‘* With what result?’ he stammered. ‘Every effort is being made to learn the true name of the wretch, for, of course, that of Law- rence Gordon was assumed to hide his real identity. It is of ‘What of that?” he demanded, with sudden ap- But that is not what IT set out. to tell you. the marriage I wish to speak.” prehension. pose happened to be gifted with a conscience. real clergyman, instead of the impostor who was \ expected, performed the ceremony.” Gerald staggered back a step, his forehead cover- He looked:-so strange that ed with heavy drops. Edna was at once struck by his expre sion. * You are ill!” she exclaimed. _ tell me so before?” She was hastening to his side, full of lovinz solici- “Thad better go up-stairs for awhile. We can resume this . tude, but he waved her away. S) *T don’t feel verv well,” he stammered. ‘subject some other time,”’ : | ets : oor sister has suffered much, Gerald. Never But she was al- Gerald clung to the back of a chair, feeling him- “It appears that the wretch who intended to de- ceive my sist*r with a false marriage was himself deceived The tool he hired for his nefarious pur- “Why did you not He went out hastily, locking himself into the dressing-room above. Ah! how bitterly at that mo- ment he repented of his infamous conduct! Too late. It was done, and could never be recalled, Now he had only to meet the consequences, But what would they be? : “Tam ruined,” groaned the unhappy wretch, “If these facts come to light I can never raise my head among honest péople again.” u He sat down, trying hard to see a way out of the difficulcy. But no light broke upon his troubled and bewildered mind. Whichever way he turned, his path was beset with difficulties. ‘ “Tam in Neria’s power,” he thought. “She can crush me with a word. But will she doit?” = = The fact that she had thus far remained silent af- forded but scant encouragement. ‘ “Tl go to her,” he finally resolved. “It willbean ordeal to meet her face to face again, but I shall know what to expect, and that will be better than to endure this racking suspense.” In spite of the mental anguish he saffered, Gerald dressed himself very roa! before goingout. By this time night had fallen. His heart thrilled, almost failing him as he strode past the door leading into Edna’s chamber. What a wreck he had made of that innocent young life. 1t was nine o’clock when he reached Mrs. Faunce’s residence, A strange girl answered his summons at the bell. He had laid no plans how to gain access to Neria’s presence, but intended to be ee by cir- cumstances. He did not even know by what name Neria was known. in that household. “Twish to see the young lady who is stopping here,”’ he said, advancing a step. “Do you mean Miss Thornton?” inquired the girl, looking at him askance. **Yes, Miss Neria Thornton,”’ ‘She is ill, and does not receive visitors, sir.’’ “But I must see her. It is very necessary that I should. Show me to her room at once.” : The girl drew back a step. “Tt would _be all my place is worth,” she stam- mered. ‘‘ We have positive orders. Miss Thornton is to be denied to everybody. Gerald studied the girl’s face attentively a mo- ment, andsaw that she would be susceptible to a brilfe. “Take this ” said he, dropping a gold piece in her reluctantly extended hand. “You have only to in- dicate the door. : blame you for performing so trifling a service.” She gl nced at the gold piece with ane | pe “Take the third door to the left,’ she said, a whisper, and ran away trembling. s Gerald fol owed the instructions given. Arrived at the door in question, he paused a moment to listen. Nosound came from within, and at length he ventured to raise the latch, CHAPTER XX. j THE TWO WIVES. } Nera was alone in the room, sitting beside the dying fire. She looked pale and worn, and traces of tears were on ber cheks. The opening of the door caused her to turn her head. She saw her recreant husband cross the threshold, and advance into the room. She ressed her hand to her side, and everything seemed for an instant. ““You!’? she stammered. ‘ You!” Ho went straight roward her with outstretched hands, his features fairly convulsed with emotion. The sight of that stricken creature had melted his heart, and changed his purpose In an instant. All the old tenderness that he thought dead, had started into sudden life again. : ‘““My poor child.” he exclaimed, “ what has chang. ed youso? Am Ito blame for this?” She started to her feet and drew back a step, look- ing at him almost wildly. “Do not come any nearer®’ she panted, ‘* Why That is all I will ask. No one can- ~ whirl \ xa
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ie _ did you seek me here, to add another pang tom wretched life? Had I not suffered enough already?’ _ * Forgive me! I have been a wretch, Neria, I _ freely acknowledge it. Do not look upon me with such horror in your lovely eyes. I am anxious to make amends. Only give me the opportunity.” <A shade of disdain crossed her face. —* Amends |”? she repeated. ‘It is too late to talk of that.” _ He advanced still another step. J wish to atone. I willdo anything that is rea- _ gonable.” he said, eagerly. ‘I came here to-night - thinking to bargain with you to keep our miserable secret. Nowthat I have seen you my whole purpose seems to be changed. Dictate whatever terms you _please—I am ready to assent to them.” . “All Task of you is to go away, where I may never see your face again.” Neria panted slightly, and a feeling of faintness _ came over her. But he was unabashed: ‘Take a moment to con- sider. I find that you are dearer to my heart than I _ everimagined. This meeting is like a revelation. I am readyto give up everything. Everything, Neria! _ Say the word, and we will leave the country to-mor- ow morning, never to return. It is ihe easiest—the ily way out of the terrible complication in which e-have become involved. Say that you will go.” i s voice was full of tenderness. He was like a fp ver pleading for the one priceless boon his heart na most dear. _ Neria put up her hand, still waving him away. ‘Have you no shame?” she treathed. ‘ Think of y poorsister. Where is your consideration for the innocent girl you promised to love and cherish?” A searlet flush swept over his face. He had al- nost forgotten the poor wronged wife who was at _ that very moment anxiously awaiting his coming in her pretty boudoir. *Wdna 1 never be tortured asI have been!”’ eria exclaimed, with sud en energy. ‘She loves you, unworthy as you are. For her sake I have spared you thus far and planned and plotted to keep i eeachot of your ideutity. She would never survive the knowledge of the truth. Go back to her, go at once! Be to her the true, loving, devoted husband e thinks you, and I will try to forgive the bitter wrong you have done me. My innocent sister must be spared at any sacrifice.” ° nd ou?” se: Bae. thy ee ao 2 It matters little what becomes of me,” she cried, miserably. “ My lot is heavy, but God will give me _ strength to bear it.” sas e was quite calm now, the calmness that intense suffering sometimes gives. Gliding to the door, she held it open for him to pass out. “Farewell,” she said. ‘‘Heaven grant that you and I may never meet again.” Gerald hesitated a moment longer, looking at her ith love, anguish, dread and self-reproach all plain- ly written in his face, and then slowly left the room and the house. : It was midnight before he could make te his mind to enter his own door, Late as was the hour, ,: a still sat up waiting for him, He attempted to steal aly past the boudoir, but those loving ears caught and recognized his step. : _ **How late’ you are!” she exclaimed, throwing en the door and stealing into his arms with a ntle kiss. ‘‘Come in here. You must be cold d tired. I had a warm cun of coffee brought up ‘ou not ten minutes ago.” He could do no less than follow her into the - eoquettish little room. It was full of light and - warmth. and pretty things. Edna had drawn up an asy -chair—his slippers and dressing-gown lay close _ beside it. eat am sorry you sat up,” he forced himself to say. “Don’t do it again ” 4 would have been impossible to sleep. The ning has seemed long and lonesome with you had . A MAN'S SIN be _— ‘i fete as + = im 4 a is Rants so4 Se Yes] A Peete: She wheeled a small table up to the fire, and placed a tray on it within reach of his hand. Ger- aid sat for awhile with his eyes fixed steadily upon her face. It wore a drawn, pinched look quie new to him, and a hectic spot burned in either cheek. ‘*You have worn yourself out with watching,” he said, feeling a keen pang of self-reproach, ‘‘ Why did you do it?” ‘*Oh, Lam not tired in the least.’’ She sat down in the nearest chair, her face light- ing up wih the happy smiles his presence aan called forth. How pretty, innocent, and childlike she looked, with the soft firelight playing over her graceful figure! Suddenly clasping the slender hand that lay in her lap, he said, in a voice that trembled visibly: * How would you bear it, Edna, if compelled to give me up altogether?” She lifted a startled glance to his face. “Don’t speak of such a contingency,”’ she said, with a shudder. ‘“ We have been separated enough, You must never, never leave me again!” The repressed excitement with which she spoke sent her into a violens fit of coughing. Gerald had heard nothing like it before. Suddenly she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, and a few drops of crimson fell on her white dress. “What is that?’ Gerald cried, in sudden terror. “* Blood!” Their eyes met for an instant. Hers were full of pleading anguish. The wretched man fell back, shocked and stunned. He seemed to realize at once what was to be the end. CHAPTER XXI. FEDORA’S FATE, A SURPRISE awaited Neria. She was sitting listless- ly at the window the morning subsequent to Gerald’s visit, when a sudden commotion in the street caus- ed her tolook out. Acrowd had gathered about a woman on the sidewalk, and two strange men were trying to lift her into a carriage, despite the frantic struggles made by the poor creature to escape. Neria recognized her ata Seng Tt was Fedora Rrandon! For an instant she sat spellbound with surprise. Of course, she could do no Jess than has‘en to Fe- dora’s rescue. Descending to the street, she laid her hand on the arm of the man who stood nearest. ‘““What are you doing with that poor soul?’’ she demanded. “Taking her to the asylum,” he replied. ‘‘ Don’t you see she ismad—mad as a March hare? It isn’t safe for her to be walking the streets.”’ * Has she no friends in this crowd?” “Not one, miss. Nobody knows who she is, or where she came from. When I first noticed her she | was Staggering along. wringing her hands, talking to herself, and gesticulating. She looks about fagged out, poor thing.” ‘This lady is a friend of mine,” Neria said, has- tily. ‘“‘She seems to be very ill. I could not think of her being sent to any asylum. You can bring her in here, I will see that those having charge of her are notified at once.” ‘Very well, miss.” : Five minutes later, Fedora was lying on the couch in Neria’s chamber, and the crowd had dispe sed. The poor soul did not seem more than alf-con- scious at first: but presently she unclosed her eyes and fixed them in a piercing look on Neria’s face. | ““Ah.?? she cried, feebly, “is it you? T have neve: forgotten that face, and never will. Gilbert thougis* it far lovelier than mine. No wonder, I have never been to him the wife he deserved. I could not be. Whenever I tried, there was something bere in my head that set me all wrong, and hindered me from succeeding.” “Hush,” said Neria. “Tell me why you were wandering up and down the streets alone. ; “It was my head again, It has done nothing bu’
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A MAN’S SIN. ee whirl and buzz for days together. Ithought it would be better if I got away, and went where I pleased.” “Poor woman. Lie down and keep yourself quiet fora little. I am going to send a messenger for your husband.” “Do,” was the answer. ‘‘I am too weak to go back. Ishoul 1! feel better if he were here. Neria went out and dispatched a servant for Mr. Brandon, and another for the nearest physician. By tois time, Mrs. Faunce had come down from her chamber. She had already heard that a strange woman was in the house, and seemed half-inclined to be angry. ‘What is all this?’’ she exclaimed. Neria hastily explained. “*T could not send Mrs. Brandon away. She does not look strong enough to bear even the short st journey.” Mrs. I'aunce was a woman of generous impulses, and her brow cleared at once. ‘ Well, we will do what we can for the poor soul.” The physician was first to arrive. After a brief examination he st«pp°d aside and gravely said: “The patient is very low. She cannot last through the day. You had better send for her friends, if she has any. Neria’s heart beat with sudden fear. What if ffadora should pass away before Mr. Brandon could arrive? A little past noon he drove ay to the door, accom- pinied by Mrs. Charlton. His horses were covered with foam and.dust. Hurrying up the steps, he searcely paused to gre -t Neriag who met him at the ace, but entered the chamber where his wife was ying. “How is she?” he hoarsely inguired. ‘*Be prepared for the worst,” said the physician, who stood near. “She is sinking fast. In an bour’s time all will be over.”? Neria saw him totter toward the bed, and fall on his knees beside it Then she went out, followed by th » physician, and closed the door, leaving husband and wife together. , Meanwhile, Mrs. Charlton waited in one of the ante-rooms near by, her hand closely clasped in tnat of her young friend. A tear fell down her ose ae and then, but on the whole she looke | re- ioved. “It is better so,’’ she finally said; ‘‘better for mv brother, better for Fedora herself. Gilbert has suf- fered everything, endured everything.” “Tt will soon be over.”’ ‘*She has been more than usually violent forsome days. I felt that the end was near. Early in the evening the hired nurse fell asleep at her post, and it was then that Fedora escaped. We did not know she was gone un'il long after daybreak. I can never forgive the woman for her carelessness. Gilbert had watched with her*himself for many nights, until he was quite worn out, and I prevailed on him to take a little rest. He was almost distracted when he learned what had occurrad.” Mrs Charlton sat for 2 moment with her eyes fixed upon the carpet, and then resumed: ** We have succeeded well in keeping Fedora hid- den from the world. You are the only person out- side the house who was aware of her existences. But all will come out now; secrecy is no longer possible. N> matter. She will soon be beyond the reach of human jus‘ice, and I know that Heaven will deal leniently with one like her.” “You once told me that Mrs. Brandon had been guilty of a great crime,’’ Neria said. se “Yes, I cannot bear to speak of it. The story is wv horrible one. The briefest outline must suffice. ‘It wis sfter her baby was born that the first, symp- toms of insanity manifested themselves. We were spending the summer On the sea-shore Oneday Fejora took her babe down to the beach, and earry- ing it far out on the rocks, deliberately left it there until the tide cams in and sweptit away.” ** How horrible!”’ ix “A party of fishermen were near enough to see —. ot what she had dons, but the child was dead before they could reach it. Of course there was a great excitement. My brother hurried Fedora away be- fore an arrest could be made, and fortunately for them the train on which they fled was wrecked. You can divine the rest. -Fedora’s name appeared in the list of the killed. The stratagem was hardly justifiable, perhaps, but Gilbert pitied his mad wife, and wished to spare her all that was possible,” **She has been living at Cragnest all these years?” “Yes, But it has been a terrible life for us all. Wicked asit may appear, I can but.rejoice that the end approaches.” Even as she spoke a low wail..sounded from th? innerro m. She raised her head, and her eyes met Neria’s for an instant. * “ Allis over,’ she said, in a solemn voice, It was even so. CHAPTER XXII. A BRIDGE OF GLASS. MISFORTUNES never come singly. The morning subsequent to Mrs. Brandon’s sudden death, Neria was sitting alone in her chamber when the maid brought in a letter. It had been left at the door by a messenger, and was addressed in Gerald Ather- ton’s well-known hand. Neria felt a f 1intness come over her as she recog- nized the familiar writing. The first impulse was to return the letter unread; but curiosity and interest triumphed. Breaking the seal, she read these words: “Edra is quite ill. and asks for you continually. Your conduct in leaving the house so abruptly, and persistently remaining aloof, perplexes and dis- tresses her. She thinks of nothingelse. Her mind is filled with vague conjectures. She fears that something has been done to offend you. Tentreat you to ome to her, if only for an hour. It will be an ordeal, but you can bear it. This letter is writ- ten at her request; though, of course, she is izno- rant of its wording. The poor child grieves about you to such an extent she may fall seriously ill, if you refuse to come. Worse than all the rest, she might suspect the truth! Come, if only to avert such a calamity.” Neria read this letter twics through, her face crowin™ white even to the lips. Edna ill, and calling for her! How dreadful! Surely she might have been spared such a trial as this. ; ‘“Of course I must go to her,” she thought. “It would seem heartless and cruel to remain away. But it is hard—very hard!”’ She dressed herself for the journey and ordered the carriage at ones. Her limbs trembled, and she panted with emotion as she asc2nded the steps of the Atherton mansion, and rung the bell. The eller Mrs. Atherton let her in. “Tam glad you have eome.”’ she said, an expres- sion of relief flitting over her face. nothing but fret, and ask if you are here, At this rate she will soon work herself into a fever.” ** What made her ill?” Neria eagerly asked. ‘‘She has up late. the night before last, waiting for Gerald to come home, and took a violent cold. It has settled on her lungs, and we have not been able to break it up.” Neria drew a quick, shivering breath. to her at once?” “Gertainly. You know the way.” “She is alone?” a Yes ” Neria hurried away. Breathing a silent prayer for strength, she entered Edna’s chamber, Thesick girl was reclining in an easy-chair beside the fire. She wore a loose white dress. with a shawl drawn over her shoulders. Neria was shocked and startled by the change a few hourg “Can I go “Wdna doas-
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_ exclamation, she attempted to slip past __ think I would let you come and go without exchang- __ ing even a word with you?” 28 A MAN’S SIN. 7 had wrought. Edna looked haggard, pallid, and at ag # dozen years older than when she saw her Yor some time the sisters remained locked in each other’s arms, uttering no word. Edna first recover- ed herself. Tears were chasing each other rapidly down her cheeks, r “You do not know how I have missed you!” she exclaimed. “* Why did you a4 away?” “*T{[—fancied you would be happier without me,” Neria stammered, at a loss what to reply. “Did you? What a mistaken notion! No one could ever make up for your loss, my precious sis- ter. She clasped Neria’s trembling form still closer, affectionately kissing her cheek, “T see howitis,”’ sheadded. ‘‘ You feared being in the way now that my husband has returned. Fool- ish girl! he would soon learn to prize your society quite as highly as I do.” Then, after a thoughtful pause, she resumed: ** How strange it seems that you two have not met each other yet! I was so anxious for you to be friends.” As Neria made no reply, she went on: ‘tT was so ill that Gerald insisted upon sitting up with me. Toward morning he fell asleep in his chair, and [heard him repeat a name twice over. Jt was yours, Neria. I had dinned it so continually in his ears that he even dreamed of you.” Edna laughed pleasantly as she spoke. How far she was, poor soul, from divining the truth! She soon betrayed symptoms of weariness. Her strength had sadly given way. After a violent fit of coughing, she said: A “T think 1 could sleep if left quite to myself fora ' while. But you must promise not to leave the house, Neelie. I want a good long talk with you as soon as I wake up.” Neria withdrew to a small anteroom near by and sat down, trying to still her beating heart. She felt like one walking over a bridge of glass. At any mo- ment something might occur to render further con- cealment impossible. ¥ The moiaents wore on, and Neria was buried so eee in gloomy reflectious that she did not ear the soft, light steps that apy ernie? the door, nor the knob as it was gently turned. Looking up all at once with the sudden consciousness of another presence in the room, she beheld Gerald Atherton standing before her. He was deadly pale, and his eves burned with an unsteady, light. “‘ Hush!” he whispered, stretching out his hand to detain her as, after the first gaa “Did you Neria sunk into a chair, trembling with pain and anger. “How dare you enter my presence?” she panted. ‘* Forgive me.” “How can I? You have betrayed the trust I re- sed in you. You know very well that I would not hve entered the house but ror the tacit understand- ing that we would uot meet here.” : ‘ He took a step nearer, eagerly holding out his arms. “This farce has gone far enough,” he said. “*Neria, darling, I find it is impossible to give you up. The old love has flamed up in my heart like a voleano I tried to do my duty and be faithful to Edna, but it was of no use. The struggle was kill- ing me, It bas well-nigh killed you already, What is the use? You are my wife, and it is unjust that we shoul! be compelled to sacrifice our happiness for another.” Neria had her hand on her heart to still its con- vulsive throbbing. “A ““ Hush,” she cried. ‘I cannot listen to you. Go, go at once! T would rather die than have the truth come to light at this late day.” ‘** You have nothing of which to feel ashamed.” ‘“Remember Edna,” she pleaded, in the husky ac- cents of intense despair. ‘Be merciful to my poor sister. If you ever felt the Jeast affecticn for her, I implore you to remain faithful till the end.” At that moment there came the soft rustle of a wo- man’s dress across the floor, and Edna Atherton paused beside the chair! CHAPTER XXIT. TOO LATE! Neria saw at a glance that her sister had heard and understood, and all secrecy was at an end forever. Pale and cold as astatue cavved in marble she stood there confronting the two, her white dress as it swept the floor in soft, ae folds, lending an additional air of ghastliness to her livid face, It seemed an age before the frozen lips parted. “What is all this?” she demanded. ‘Tell me—I will know the truth, and the whole truth.” She knew elready; but the stunned, bewildered brain needed further confirmation of the dreadful story. Suddenly awakened from the fitful slumber into which she had fallen by the sound of voices in the ante-chamber, Edna had risen and stolen forth to learn who was there. The door happened to stand ajar, and almost stuyefied with horror, she listened to every word that was uttered. No one replied to her for a moment. “ Why don’t you speak?” Edna said, in a low, con- strained voice, looking from one to the other. Her calmn. ss was frightful—more appalling than the most violent outbreak would have been. “This mystery must be explained,” she went on, with the air of an injured queen. ‘‘ Gerald, you and Neria pretended tobe strangers to each other. How is it that I find you conversing together like this?” He made an effort to recover himself. ‘*The—the meeting was accidental,”* he stammer- ed. “Don’t think of it any more. Come back to your chamber. You are too ill to be here.” She shuddevingly shook his hand aside. **T am not to be put off,’’ she said. ** Let me know the worst at once.” Seeing him draw back she turned suddenly to Neria, and added, in accents of gentle entreaty: ‘* You will tell me. For Heaven’s sake do not keep me in suspense.”’ Neria buried her face in her hands. o How can I tell you?” she groaned. ‘‘How can I? “You will at least answer such questions as Imay ask? It would be cruel to deny me that satisfoction. Iwish to know if the man standing yonder is tre same you have told me about—he who married you in New Orleans and afterwa-d deserted you? Are Lawrence Gordon and Gerald Atherton one and the same?” There wasno response. After asilence that lasted only a few seconds, but seemed like mapy hours, dna added, in an apathetic voice: “Tam answered. Tomy mind allis now perfectly clear. Neria, I understand why you left the house so abruptly after he -—Gerald—came home.” “Forgive me,’’ Neria cried, failing on her knees at her sister’s feet, ‘‘I would sooner die than cause you a moment’s pain. I dil not know, or even guess the terrible truth until the night Gerald came back. Oh, why did I: ver live to sce this hour?” “You should have told me at once.” Then passing one hand slowly across her forehead she resumed: . “Jt is better to deal with each other plainly in such atrouble Do not imagine, dear Neria, thatI — blame you in the least for what has occurred. You are as innocent of intentional wrong as I am.” “Oh, yes, yes.” “It is of our changed position that I wish to speak,
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; 29, I have not forgotten the verdict of the lawyer’s agent, who went to New Orleans to investigate the facts of your marriage. He pronounced it a valid ceremony. It must have been such. Gerald Ather- ton is yovr husband, and not mine!”’ Her forced composure gave way a little as she ut- tered these words, and, leaning against a chair, she shuddered convulsively. “Don’t say that,” cried Neria, starting impulsively toher fret. “Ihave ro claim upon him—wish for none. You are his acknowledged wife in the sight of the world. Keep your position as such. God forbid that I should deprive you of it!” A slight flush kindled in Edna’s pale cheeks. “You forget,’ she said, sharply. ‘‘Could I live with Gerald Atherton as-his wife, knowing that the title I bore rightfully belonged to another? No, I am not fallen so Jow as that.” Neria uttered a low-ery of horror. She had never thought of the matter in that particular light. “Heaven help us.” “T shall go away from here at once,’’ Edna re- sumed. *‘Aunt Faunce has a kind heart—she will surely give me shelter. Heaven grant that I may not live long to trouble any one.” Gerald was looking at her with a stunned, stupid gaze. Seeing her turn slowly away, he sprung for- ward with a hoars>, inarriculate ery. “Edna donot leave me like this! I have been a wretch, but I promise to do everything in my power to atone for the past. I will be all you ever imagined me. Don’t go!” She coldly waved him away. “Too late. Let me pass if—’”’ The sentence was never finished; Edna suddenly pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. It was in- stantly covered with blood. That terrible scene had done its work. Gerald had barely time to catchyherin his arms as she fell forwardinsensiblet + oy CHAPTER XXIV. AFTER THE REVELATION, WaHen consciousness returned, Edna was lying on the couch in her own pretty chamber. She felt weak and ill,and could scarcely rais@ her head from the pillow, A sense of loss and pain weighed heavily upon her heart. Her first thought was, of Gerald. Seeing Neria bending anxiously over her, she caught her hand, Saying, in an eager whisper: * Where is he? Why is he not here?” «_Lasked him to wait outside,” was the answer. ‘Shall [teil him you have recovered, and wish to See him?” «4,9, no.” She fell back, drawing a quick breath, Don’t let him enter here, Neria,” she pleaded. “TI am wea':-—-and I loved him so. It is better that we should never meet again.” alm yourself. It shall bo as you wish.” A long silence ensued. Elna lay with her trem- bling hands clasped above her heart. She was try- Ing to look the situation squarely in the face. #? r pe. Dae as the gga’ with me?” she said, at last. el strangely. remem iz : i butte een ber falling insensible, ae ned jn vain to put her off, “The doctor says you have rupture -ves- Sel,’’ she reluctantly replied. ett * dans oat. ok fortunately; you will be up again in a few “ A few days!” Edna echoed. “TI must leave thi house before sunset! | could not pass another aight = : nes is pot of the question,” ta began to expostulate, but it was of n , he was bent on getting away as quickly as oable So oe e be ia igee he) soon worked herself a fever of excitement that Neri i was be ter to. yields eria saw it iB speak tothe physician,” she said, at length: We must be guided by his advice.” She did so, and won a reluctant consent that the removal should be made at once, All that now re- mained was to apprise Gerald of the decision. She found him walking up and down the corridor like one distracted. earing her step, he turned and came quickly toward her. ‘*T am here to speak of Edna,” she coldly said. “Tn spite of her weak condition she is determined to leave the house at once.” oa she persists in abandoning me?” bce: ld Covering his face, he groaned aloud. ‘ “T submit. But you must let me see her alone ad moments before she goes,” he-said, at ength, ‘““Tmpossible!” was the decisive answer. “My sister could not endure another interview in her weakened concition. Neither does she wish it, Spare her the ordeal.”’ ‘You do not care how much my heart is wrung, or how entirely I am bereft,’’ he passionately ex- claimed. ’ Neria made no. response. It was but a just retri- ~ bution—one he had brought upon himself. He was suffering a little of the agony he had ruthlessly brought upon others. Elna was sitting up when she re-entered her chamber, eagerly giving orders to the maid who had been summoned. Her eyes glittered with excite- ment, a hectic spot burned in either cheek. “You need pa k only my plainest dresses,” she said. ‘I shall h&ve no use fer the others, or my jewels. Lave them altogether and he—Mr. Ather- ton—can dispose of them as he pleases.” The bewildered maid obeyed these instructions to. the letter. It was only by a tremendous effort that Edna suc ceeded in keeping any control over herself. Wben at last all was ready, and, clinging to Neria’s arm, she arose to leave the room and the house, she was almost overcome. “I came here a happy brite,” she said, “and never dreamed what a farce I was living. A wrecked life and broken heart are all I have to take away.” / “Come,” said Neria, drawing her forcibly for- ward. ‘‘It will never do to give way like this.” The halis and corridors were clear. Gerald had taken care of that. Neither he nor Mrs. Atherton appeared. : t was with a last long, lingering look full of un- utterable anguish that Edna left the house. “This is my farewell,” she said. ‘I shall never _ come here again, or behold anything I leave behin lt seems like taking leave of the dead,” They entered the carriage. free breath until they reached Mrs. Faunce’s door, She feared that a second hemorrhage might set in on the way. Mrs. Faunce stood waiting in the hall, her shrewd old face betraying wonder and curiosity. She fell back a step wih a smothered ejaculation as her glanee fell upon the pale, drooping figure of Edna. ‘*Mercy on m2! “What is all this?” Neria made a quick sign of caution. ‘* Hush!’ she said, in a low tone of voice. ‘Ask no questions, but leave me to deal with my sister alone. I will explain all, presently.” Mrs. Faunce leaned against the wall, suffering them to pass by. Never, in all her life, had she been so astonished. “What can it be?” she vainly asked herself, ‘In the first place, Neria came flying here, at dead of night, for refuge, and now it is Edna. Something must be radically wrong at the Atherton mansion. But what?” An hour later she had heard the whole story, Leaving Edna lying in the deep sleen of exhaustion, Neria sought the presence of her aunt and revealed all. without reservation. Mrs. Faunce could scarcely believe the evidence of her senses, Neria did not draw a :;
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__ “T entreat you to be careful,” pleaded Neria. “For Edna’s sake there must be no scandal. It is not necessary that the facts shoul | ever come to light, The world will know that my sister and ber husband _ have parted, but it need not be told the reason.” ___Mrs. Faunce felt the force of Neria’s reasoning. _ Yes, the secret must be kept—it was due to all. ee CHAPTER XXV. Pp ENTERING INTO REST. NEARLY a month went by. Edna was rapidly and surely fading. Day by day _ ghe grew weaker, her coughing fits more violent, and the hemorrhages, to which she was now sub- ect, more frequent. : idna was one of the first to realize her impending fate. One day as Neria sat beside the bed, bathing er hot brow and hands with eau de Cologne, she poke of it. _ * To most persons of my age the thought of ceath is terrible. It only brings comfort to me. There ould be no other escape from the degrading and in- lerable position in which Iam placed. Iam ready “ . “Oh, Edna!” cried Neria, in a choking voice. -“T know you will mourn for me,” she said, lifting her hollow eyes to her sister’s face. ‘* You have al- ways loved me tenderly and devotedly. For atime /may seem very lonely here. But even you will re- joice to feel that Iam at rest where shame and sor- row can never assail me more.”’ “Do not giveup. You should try to live for the - sake of those who love you.” dna slowly shook her head. _ “The burden of life is more than Ican bear. God She naka is merciful in calling me home. A Jit- tle while, and I shall be beyond the reach of grief nd pain.” After a long pause she added, in a musing tone: __“ When all is over I would like to be taken to my old home, and buried beside my mother. Ihave a ion that I could rest better there. The skies are rmer, the sun would kiss my grave, and flowers m earlier and later upon it. Do you promise?” i Neria answered, unsteadily. ‘ Anything ’ fter that conversation, she seemed to take giant les toward the grave. : le day, after a Jong silence, she suddenly stretch- ed out her wasted hand, suffering it to fall upon her sister's. pt, “Neria, are we alone?” she said, in an eager V er, ‘Ihave something to say to you before it ; 0 late. : i: tne can speak freely, dear. There is no one else ~ ar.’ , Her eyes drooped; for an instant she hesitated. _ “What I wish to say concerns Gerald and—and— yourself,”’ she faltered. ‘Forgive me if I cause you momentary pain. I know that you loved him fell and truly. You are his wife. He will be a bet- er man for what he has passed through. When I | gone I want you to promise that you will take ee I have wrongfully filled, boar the name 1 e borne.” * Never!” cried Neria, starting back. “I could “It would be an insult to your memory—abhor- to my wronged womanhood.” ieee it is my wish that you should be re-united, id, in a solemn voice. 4 : o not speak of such a consummation!” Neria ed. ‘‘T could not entertain the thonght for nent. regen cose not tell you my feel- rt sso wronged us boch. Let i tit annot bear it.” ey nS Settee At alate hour of that same evening, as Neria sat beside the couch, there came a low tap at the win- dow. Edna was asleep. Neria rose with a startled feeling, and, approaching the window, drew back the shade. a Gerald stood there on the little balcony that ex- tended along the front of the house. > He signed for Neria to raise the sash. ‘* How is she?” he eagerly inquired, the instant she had complied with his request. “Wading raat away,’ she answered, with Cciff- culty restraining her tears. ‘ A few days more wiil see the end.” He stood silent a moment, one hand pressed tightly upon his throat. “Can I see her?” he said at length in a hoarse voice that sounded utcerly unlike his own. ‘Of what use would it be?” *“*T could ask her forgiveness a ain. It would bea comfort tome. Perhaps there is some reparation I could make.” Reparation! at that late daz! It turned Neria sick to think of it. While she stood silent, trembling with sorrow and indignation, a feeble voice spoke her name: ““Neria, where are you?” She entered hastily, Edna lay with her eyes wice open, breathing heavily and painfully. *“You are worse?” Neria exclaimed. Edna feebly put up her hand. “Yes,” she answered, her voice scarcely audible for weakness. ‘‘I feel that the erdis near. It hes come sooner than we expected—almost too soon icr my purpose, perhaps.” Then, fixing ber glazing eyes eagerly on her sis- ter’s face, she added: ‘*T have one request to make. I must see Jim be- fore I die! Do not refuse'me. I always meant to send for him at the last. I loved Fim so. Neria, Neria, you have not the héart to refuse my dying request?” sf A moment’s hesitation, and the wretched girl cried in a voice of grief and horror: ‘“*No, no! You shall see him; he is here!”’ Edna started up with a wild glitter in her eyes. Ps Here? Oh! donot deceive me. I could not bear it!” ; Neria went strafeht to the window and threw back the blind. - “You can enter,’ she said, eotale A glad cry came from the couch as Gerald step- red across the sill. He went feebly on, and falling on his knees, caught the hand of the dying woman, and beld it pressed convulsively to his lips. ““On, Edna, is it thus we meet at last?”’ She laid her cheek against his, and so held him fast for a moment. All the pain and grief were gone from her face—a divine peace reigned there instead. ‘ : ““You are with me again,”’ she breathed, “and I ean die content.” After a brief silence she looked up, and said: ‘* Kiss me, Neria. then leave us alone.” What passed within that room no one ever knew. At last, after a long interval, Gerald threw open the door, and fell half-fainting across the threshold. —— did not stcp to question him, but entered has- ily. ; All was still. Edna Jay with ber hands folded, a eaceful smile parting her lips. That tortured heart had found rest at last! CHAPTER XXVI. THE BITTER END. FAsHIonaBLe New York society was shocked and startled when news cf Edua’s death, after so brie/ an iliness, went abroad. She was laid to rest as Gerald Atherton’s wife. and her s-ciety friends never knew—never will know-— the miserable secret that shortened and saddened the life that otherwise might have been so happy,
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| A MAN'S SIN. Yor her sister’s sake, that no suspicion might be awakened, or reproach cast upon dna’s memory, Neria accompanied Gerald to the grave. it was a terrible ordeal, however. The instant all was over, | ghe withdrew to the seclusion of Mrs _ Faunce’s | house, and with an aching heart, took up the burden | of her solitary existence. The sorrow-laden weeks went by. She never went abroad, and received no visitors until one May after- noon, when, as she was sitting listlessly in the draw- inz-room, Gerald Atherton was ushered unceremo- niously into her presence. She had not seen him since the day of Edna’s funeral, and was shocked and surprised at the change visible in his appearance. He Jooked haggard and wild-eyed, and his face was tain and worn. “T have lived in torment, these last few weeks,” he uttered, aft-r some painful words had passed be- tween them. ‘‘I could endure it no longer. Neria, your resentment must have passed away ere this. You will not refuse me the kind words for which my heart is hungering?” ‘““What do you expect?” she calmly demanded, though ai] her pulses were throbbing. “That bright dream of one year. ago was very sweet to us both. I have never forgotten it. Why should we not live it over? This estrangement is terrible. It has continued too long already. There should be an end of it.” He was coming nearer, but she waved him reso- lutely away... : ‘It is necessary we should understand each other once and forever,” she said. ‘‘ You and I have noth- ing in common, Gerald Atherton. The sooner we part to see each other no more, the better.” ‘ He gazed at her a moment, trembling with intense excitement. ; ‘ “Youare not in earnest, Neria,” he gasped. ‘‘ You ean’t be.” ** Yes,’’ she replied. as death—and as impassable. strangers to each other.” A strange cry of blended anguish and rage broke from his lips. He saw that all was lost—peisistence would be useless. ‘Great God! Is this to be my punishment?’ he Peonted, striking his clinched hand against Lis fore- eal. The next moment he was gone. Neria saw him climb into the light carriage that waited before the door, snatch up the lines, and strike the horse a cruel blow with his whip. Others who saw him that cay said he drove furi- ously through the streets, his muscles set. his face pallid as death, his eyes wild and glittering. The result was what might have been expected. Sud- denly his light carriage became entangled in a snarl of heavier vehicles; the frightened horse became uncontrollable; and then the catastrophe occurred. Garald was thrown headlong against a curbstone ouly a few feet distant, where he lay a mass of lacer- atel and quivering flesh. Hs spoke but once after they picked him up. ‘‘Neria will forgive me now,’”’ he murmured. and so closed his eyes upon this world, where his years had been few, but full of evil. Who will say that a violent death was not the fitting end of such a life? CHAPTER XXVII. CONCLUSION. No event of importance marked Neria’s life dur- in’ the next twelve months. The life sbe led was a very useful one, full of . charity and deeds of benevolence. Mrs. Fannce’s 7 abundant wealth, of which she was the acknowl- edged heir, rendered it an easy matter to give with 4 generous hand, But one relaxation did the devoted girl permit her- self—a monthly visit to Cragnest. in order to spend a day with Mrs. Charlton, Gilbert Brandon still re- mained abroad, but his sister often read Jong ex- “The gulf between us is deep Henceforth we cre as jee a ey Ass ee ae carriage drew up before the door, S s ho? Oe, theese des ’ ° ke =. : i ae cana ae a =~ ane an Yo ae ee a i a ; mt aS i afte ian aa a. —_— ux A, - tracts from his manly and entertaining letters, and Neria soon began to Jook forward to these occasions with a degree of pleasure and interest of which she oe was scarcely aware. : At last there came a day when Mrs. Charltonhur- — ried to meet her, radiant and happy, the moment the es F ‘“T have a pleasant surprise in store for you, dear,” she said. ‘Comet is way.” ae Perplexed and curious, Neria followed her Loe f to the drawing-room door. Mrs. Charl on paused — on the threshold, gently thrusting her within the room. “l’m going to leave you to find ou: whet it is for yourself,” she added, laughingly, and hurried away. ; : Neria scarcely dared raise her eyes, She felt ines tuitively what was coming, even before’a warm hand clasped her own, and arich vice said, close to her ear: 4 aa eae “Have rou no words of welcome for a homesick — wanderer?” wart Gilbert Brandon stood beside her, bronzed with _ foreign travel, handsome and more maniy-looking than when he went away. The expression of peace and content it once bad lacked was on his face, Neria felt herself blushing crimson as he bent over her. It was a happy moment. “‘ Welcome home!” she murmured. Fg Clasping her in his arms, with alla lover's unrea- soning impatience, he cried: ae “‘Neria, speak to me, love! Tell meifthereisany need ever to leave you again!” oft Say She leaned her head upon his shoulder with : happy sigh. That was her answer. ; ae After storm had come sunshine, after troublea calm. She had found shelter from all her sorrows in a love that would never weary—never grow cold. THE END, An: S. DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS AND WOME ENTERTAINMENTS. Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 32 inclusive, 15 to 2 popu- lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol- ume 100 pages 12mo. Be: Speakers, Nos. 1 to % inclusive. Each speaker — 100 pages 12mo, containing from 50 to 75 pieces, YOUNG PEOPLES SERIES, Dime Book of Winter Sports. B. ‘ed Dime Book of Summer Athletic Sports, Sa ae Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. “it Dime Book of Etiquette. Dime Book of Verses. Dime Book of Dreams. Dime Fortune Teller, Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer. { Dime Lovers’ Casket. Dime Ball-Room Companion, Dime Book of 100 Games. Dime Chess Instructor. : Dime Book of Beauty, [The above books are sold by newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any ad- dress, on receipt of price, ten cents each. 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Cy r 9h sate 1A Bride ofa Day; or, The Mystery of Winifred * Leigh. 2 The Girl Wife; or, The True and the False. By Bartley T. Campbell, } 8 Was It Love? or, Collegians and Sweethearts. By Win. Mason Turner, M.D. 4 Married in Haste; or, A Young Girl’s Temptation. By Rett Winwood, 56 Will She Marry Him? or, The Masked Bride. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 6 His Lawful Wife; or, Myra, the Child of Adop- tion. By Mrs, Ann 8, Stephens. @ A Falr Face; or, Out in the World. Campbell. 8 A Mad Marriage; or, The Iron Will. A. Denison. hter of Eve; or, Blinded by Love. Mrs. eb Reed Crowell. 10 The Broken Betrothal; or, Love versus Hate. By Mury Grace Halpine. 11 The Bride of an Actor 3 or, Driven from Home. By thie Author of * Alone in "the World,” ete., ete. 12 A Pair of Gray Eyes; of, The Emerald Necklace. By Rose Keunedy. 18 Without a Heart; or, Walking on the Brink. By ‘ol, Prentiss Ingraham. 14 ote inthe Worlds or, The Youne Man’s Ward. By the Author of “ The Bride of an ctor,” ete., ete. 15 Motherless; or, The Farmer's Sweetheart. By Col. Prentiss | graham. By Bartley T. By Mary By Waverley Library. By Mary Reed Crowell. | BR Homeless; or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. 16 The Secret Marriage 3 or, A Duchess in Spite of Herself By Sara Claxton. 17 Sister against Sister; or, The Rivalry of Hearts. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell, 18 Henrt to Weart; or, Fair Phyllis’s Love. By Arabella Southworth. ~ 19 Sold for Gold; or, Almost Lost. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 20 Entangled; or, A Dangerous Game. Vhackerny. 21 Sybil Chase; or, The Gambler's Wife. Ann 8. Stepitens, 22 Trust Mer Not; or, A Leicester. 28 Sinned Against; Clara Augusta 24 A Loyal Lover: or, The Last of the Grinspeths By Arabella Southworth. 256 The Country Cousin; or, All is not Gold that Glitters. By Rose Kennedy. 26 Wis Idol; or, The Ill-Starred Marriage. Mary Reed Crowell. 27 Flirtation; or, A Young Girl’s Good Name. Jacob Abarbanell (Ralph Royal). | 28 Now and Forever; or, Why Did She Marry Him? By Henrietta T hackeray. 29 Orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or, the Lost Heir. By Agile Penne. 80 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rowson. 81 The Little Heiress ; or, Under a Cloud. Mary A. Denison. 82 weap Year 3 or, Why She Proposed. 88 in, Spite of Werself’; or, Jeanette’s Reparation, By $. R. Sherwood. 84 Wer Face Was Her Fortune. By Eleanor Blaine. 85 The Cuban Heiress; or, The Prisoner of La Vin- tresse. By Mrs, Mary A. Denison. 86 Only a Schoolmistress; or, Her Untold Secret, By fazabelit Southworth, By Henrietta By Mrs. } True Knight. By Margaret | or, The Winthrop Pride. . By By Mrs, By } By Mrs, By Sara Clax- | 43 Without Mercy. THIRTY-TWO OCTAVO PAGES, ; 87 The Winged Messengers or, Risking All for a Heart. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 88 Was She a Coquette? or, A Strange Courtship. By Henrietta Thac keray. 89 One Woman’s Heart}; or, Saved from the Street. By George S. Kaime, 40 Love-Mad 3 or, Betrothed, yen Divorced and— By Wm. Mason ‘Lurner, M. 41 Yor Wer Dear Sake; or, Bava ed From Himself. By Sara Claxton. 42 The Bouquet Girl; or, A Million of Money. By Agile Penne. 43 pM oriana,the Prima Donna. By Arabella Southworth. 44 The Ebon Mask; or, The Mysterious Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 45 Lucy Temple. Daughter of Charlotte, 46 The ‘Three Sisters; or, The Mystery of Lord Chalfont. By Alice Fleming. 4? The Creole Ristors t. or, The, Mystery of the Perrys. By Mrs. Anna E. Porter.” 48 A Marriage of Convenience. By Sara Claxton. 49 ‘the Wite’s Secret; or. "I'wixt Cup and Lip. By Col. Juan Lewis. | 50 Sir Archer’s Bride; or, The Queen of Hearts. By Arabella Southworth. 51 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. By Albert W. Aiken, i 58 The Maniac Brides or. The Dead Secret of Hollow Ash Hall, By Margaret Blount. 54 Pledged to Marry; or, In Love’s. Bonds, By \Sxra Claxton. 55 Cecil's Beceits or, The Diamond Legacy. By Mrs. Jennie Da. is Burton. 56 Beutrice, the Benut By Arabella SOO By “Bartley T. Campbell. 8 The Baronet’s Seerets or, The Riyal Hal -Sisters. By Sara Claxton: 59 Agnes Hiope,: the Actress; or, the Romance of a tuby Ring. By Wim. Mason l'ur: er, M.D. 60 A Widow's Wiles; or, A Bitter Vengeance. Rachel Bernhardt. 61 Did Me Love Her? By Ba tley T. Campb 11. 62 Almost in His Power; 0, More Sinned Against than Sinning. By Lillian Lovejoy. 68 She Did Not Love Him. By Arabella South- worth. ful; or, His Second Love, By 64 Bessie Raynor, the Work Girls By Wm. Mason Turner, M. 65 A Brave Girl; or, Sunshive at Last. By Alice Fleming. 66 Lord Roth’s Sin; or, Betrothed at the Cradle. Georgiana Dickens. 67 A Wic ed Heart; or, the False and the True By Sara Claxton. 68 Wis Heart’s Mistress; or, Love at First Sight. By Arabella Southworth, 69 The tere 8 Daughter ; or, Brother against Lover. By Alice Fleming. 70 Why I Married Wim? or, the Woman in Gray. By Sara Claxton. 71 Monor Bound; or, Sealed to Secr ecy. Lovejoy. 72 A Man’s Sin; or, His Lawful Wife. wood, Ready. Oct. 6. 78 Wis Own Again; or, Trust Her Not. Southworth. Ready Oct, 18. 74 Adria, the Adopted. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Bur- ton. Ready Oct. 20, ¢ By By Lillian iy Rett Win- By Arabella Whe Waverley Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail.on receipt of six cents each. Headle and Adams, Publishers; No. 28 William street, New York. LPL LLLP PLL PLP LOPLI DAP PRP lee gt PO LOL LN PO lo or roe oy inden PR PPE PPP PLE PLL_P_POPPP LP LOLPOPOPALEe LLP LPO eee ee ees 2 mr eee PLP LLL LOLOL LO ALO LOL PAP LLL OLA AAP RPP ADA APT LOA A PAA POP AAPA PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY,