Waverley Library (Octavo Edition) (no. 89) (1886 02 02)
The text was read from the page scans by machine (OCR), so it has mistakes and its columns may run together. See the pages · About this title · At the Internet Archive
Page 1
NE y BEADLE AND ADAMS. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter. Feb. 2, 1886. $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pp rice, N 89 a Year. No. 98 William Street, New York. Five Cents. 0. . EP iy . : aT = — “HER EYES DILATED, AND WERE FIXED ON £OME DISTANT OBJECT,” HAUNTED HEARTS : ter round it! 1t is Christmas Eve when this ; story begins, so fraught with joy and sorrow to foun SoURG oat ye BE arch Abbey, the grand, old, many-win- Or, THE selattaheonctci? TROTHAL. dowed building, with the Sark gray wails, sae BY RACHEL BERNHARDT. ing in wide grounds, it is the habit to keep up —- the various old customs belonging to Christmas- CHAPTER I. tide. WAS IT A GHOST? The weather is seasonable, for it is clear and Cmristmas Eye! How many thoughts clus- ' frosty, and there has been a heavy fall of snow,
Page 2
2 HAUNTED HEARTS. on the ere day, so that to-night there is a magical world without, covered with soft fold- ings of purest white, which take fantastic shapes on the branches of tie old trees in the pleasure grounds, Over this cold and beautiful drapery of snow the moon throws down her fullest hght—and moonlight and fresh-fallen snow are ghost-like, but indescribably beautiful. Silence comes in to aid this enchantment, for there are no rough noises here, near this grand old Abbey, behind which spread wide majestic woods and far-stretching plains, Silence—the solemnity of the moonlight and of the hour might surely be enough;to wake an imaginative heart to invest the silence with something of mystery. That was what was said afterward by most of the good folks assembled that evening at Larch Abbey. Old Deborah Cane did not say so, however but then she was an antiquated dame, who ha been nurse at the Abbey for years out of num- ber; and who would listen seriously to what an old nurse believed? Even beautiful Delia Larch smiled when De- borah grew solemn over her ghost stories. Delia Larch is the heroine of this story, and never has she appeared more beautiful than now. She is dressed in a robe of dark sweeping vel- vet, with only a little of richest, creamiest lace at the throat and wrists. A jewel gleams in her dusky hair; her dark lashes shade a fair caeek, tinted with health and beauty, and when she raises these lashes, her eyes laugh out their mirthfulness. She holds in her hands a furred mantle, ready to throw over her when the rush of cold air shall be admitted as the hall door opens, for several of the guests who have formed that merry Christmas Eve party reside in the neigh- borhood, and are now going bome. And Delia has proposed, and ail. those who re- main at the Abbey have readily agreed, to see the departing pes to their carriages. They reach the hall; Delia’s handsome brother Reginald, two or three years her senior, stands beside her. Those two cling together lovingly, for rich as they are in this world’s goods, they are poor in relatives—father, mother, and elder brother long since in the grave; and so Delia owns the Abbey and its lands, and Reginald is heir to a still larger property, called Mount’s Castle; but the brother and sister live here at the Abbey together, and the wife of their de- ceased guardian, Mrs. Ashley, dwells with them. She is a kind old lady, and, fortunately for Delia, is fond of gayety. She stands herein the hall on this occasion when we introduce Delia and her brother to our readers. There are many guests besides, among whom we may notice Lord Lindsay Deane and Miss Favoretta Earle; he a young noble of an- cient lineage, she a young lady of high position and much wealth. In the background are several servants. Twelve o'clock begins to strike with solemn distinctness, and really no one had any idea | that it was nearly so late. \ Lord Lindsay casts an ee Pe glance at Delia; does she perceiveit? ifso, she feigns to be busy with the departing guests. But Reginald Larch has boldly taken his stand by Favoretta—or rather, has drawn her forward to his side; for are sey not affianced lovers now? Did she not tell him yesterday (oh! blissful yesterday!) that she could return his love? So Reginald draws Fay’shand within his own as midnight begins to chime. The wide hall door swings softly open, and— what a sight presents itself! Did ever snow wear sucha garb of enchanting beauty under the cold, clear moonlight? Nobody thought of the celd. **Good-night! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!” was said by all; and the carriages containing the departing visitors rolled away. But I am wrong in saying that everybody amid that assemblage called out the good-night and the good wish; for Delia did not. Instead thereof, she gave a ery, suppressed indeed, but it startled those near her; especially as her eyes dilated, and were fixed on some distant object in a passing terror. ‘What is it, D.?’ asked Reginald, bending to- ward her, ‘* Didn’t you see?” she said, softly and_hur- riedly. ‘‘Out there in the snow—thas figure shrinking away! Oh, Reggy, you noticed his hat and his whole appearance?” “No, I didn’t; and I think you mistook the broad patch of light falling on that bush so heavily snow-laden, and the cedar bough above, for a man’s figure,” replied Reginald, in the saine tone. * Oh, no!” whispered Delia. It was all she had time to say, for the house door closed, **Come back into the saloon, good people, for 2. few moments, that you may geb warm again before retiring,” cried Mrs. Ashley, leading the way. Ava all followed except Delia, who lingered, and said to the old man-servant who had opened the door, ‘I wish [ could look out once more!” “Certainly, miss, if you wish it!” And then the cold air rushed in once again, and the won- derful world outside was disclosed to view. Delia, unheeding the sharp air, stood f ull in the entrance, and gave one searching glance at the cedar bough and the shrub beneath it, and then signed to the servant to close the door. After which she became aware that Lord Lind- say Deane was lingering at a little distance, wistfully and timidly regarding her. Delia looked up at him, and a blush stole over her fair face; but she Jaughed lightly. “You have been taking another look at the enchanting Christmas Eve?’ asked he, coming to her side. , ‘No; at nothing so romantic,” she smiled. ‘‘No? Let me ask, then, what was ib you honored by your notice?” ; OT wha Manedbini for the ghost, Lord Lind- say. Jt may be proper for the hour and time of year; but you will set me down as very silly and fanciful for doing so.” “1 will help you look for the ghost myself!” said the young lord, warmly. : ‘ \
Page 3
HAUNTED HEARTS. s What else might he not have said if old Hart, the; man-servant, had not been there in the background (respectfully lingering till he could pass—Delia aod toed Lindsay were standing in the archway of the inner hall) it is impossible to say. Ola Deborah, too, was waiting in the fore- ground, that she might exchange a ‘‘Good- night” with Miss Delia. Thus there was hardly an opportunity for love-making. In reply to Lindsay’s last speech, Delia said, more seriously, ‘‘ It was nota ghost that I was seeking; but I do wish somebody had noticed it as wellasI. It was a figure in a slouch hat, shrinking away among the trees.” “Tl go out and tind him, if he is to be found!” Andthe young man would have seized his overcoat, and rushed out into the snow, had not Delia Jaid the tips of her fingers entreating- ly on his arm. ‘¢To-morrow! to-morrow! Oh, not to-night!” she cried. ‘¢ To-morrow will be too late,” he answered. ' “We can trace the foot-marks. Oh! please come now into the saloon with me,” she urged, He would have gone any where with her, and was easily persuaded. When they returned to the lofty apartment, people were exchanging the “* Good- night” with each other. ; As Lindsay clasped Delia’s hand, he imprison- ed it lingeringly. “Fe loves me!” was the thought which thrilled through her heart.. And a rosy future, all golden with hues of warmest affection, un- rolled itself as by enchantment before her vision within. Who could chide her? Could she foresee that the mysterious figure of which she had caught a fleeting glance that night—the dark figure in the slouch hat, hurrying away amid the suow- wreaths, carried with iim her destiny? The young girl ascended the staircase with Fay, her heart still beating to a rapturous tune with Lindsay’s hand-pressure. As she reached her own apartment, her first action was to hurry to one of the windows, and to draw aside the curtains to gaze out upon the night. Her windows overlooked the front of the Ab- bey, and if the reflection of the light streaming on the fantastic white folds of snow had really caused the appearance of a figure, she would like to feel assured if she had made a mistake. But no! Broad and fair fell the moonlight over the particular shrub she had had in view when the house door was opened, and a dark cedar bough waved above it; but there was no resemblance now to the figure of a man in a slouch hat. A tap at the door, and old Deborah entered. ‘I could not go to rest to-night, Miss Delia, without perry wish you joy for the Christ- mastide,” said she. “Come in, dear Deborah,” cried Delia, draw- ing her old nurse to the fire. Then, to the sleepy maid who was awaiting her, ‘‘ Marston you need not stay a moment more. I shall wait on myself to-night.” , And having dismissed_her, Delia sat down on the thick hearth-rug at Deborah’s feet. NN e——————————————————————————————eeeeeeee—eEEEe——e—E—E—EE———e “Did you hear me call out, Deborah?” said she, Mcrae when they had exchanged a few words. ‘*No, my dear Miss Delia; but I know’d there was somethin’ amiss, ’cos I was watchin’ you. And you looked startled, and whispered to Mr. Reggy, an’ had the house door opened agen. Besides, I heerd you tell my Lord Lindsay as you’d seen a ghost. Which no doubt you did, my dear young lady.” “Oh, no, nurse! I am not so foolish as to think that. But I did see a figure in a slouch bat getting away as fast as he could out of sight under the cedar bough, And I wonder whom it could be!” ‘*7 know!” answered the old woman, myste- riouslv, and with awe in her tone. Delia looked at her searchingly. “V’ve never said a word to you all these years, but to-night Iseem as if I couldn’t hold my tongue,” continued Deborah. ‘ Ah! or dear Mr. James, dead in foreign lands so long ago! No wonder that on Christmas Eve his spirit should come to. look at the place he never in life came back to! That was who you saw, Miss Delia; but I wish he could rest, poor Mr. Janes!” ‘‘Nurse, dear,” cried Delia, ‘‘don’t talk like that! 1t pains me, even though I never knew— neither I nor Reggy—our eldest brother, James. His death was so sad, out in the wild prairies, away from every one at home; and so sudden, too, from the bite of a rattlesnake. Oh, if they had only had brandy enough with them,. he might have been saved!” ‘oTwas a sad death, my dear; but sadder still, to my mind, that he can’t rest! For you may depend on it, there’s no ghost but his wan- ders about the old Abbey! A slouch hat I well remember he used to wear. Don’t talk of it to other people, dear Miss Delia, or the servants will take fright. Poor Mr. James would never hurt one of ’em; he was a bit extravagant, I don’t deny; your papa paid his debts twice, and then he went to’Merica. But he was a-comin’ back all right when he died. Show me just now where you see him? Do, now, Miss Delia.” Delia drew her to the window, and indicated the precise spot where she had observed the figure, at the same time entreating her old nurse not to believe that any ghost could revisit this earth. ‘* And why not?” asked Deborah, confidently. (Delia’s reasoning was all thrown away.) ‘‘ Well, well, I mustn’t talk on, for ’tis late—a good hour into Christmas Day, so I must leave you to your rest, Miss Delia! But this I do want to say; speak to the shade of your dear brother, Mr. James, if so be he appears to you again. Maybe he wants to tell you somethin’, or to unburden his mind.” ‘* Dear Deborah, I wish you didn’t believe in ghosts,” said Delia. ‘But tell me, how old would my brother James be if he had lived till Linas p He wasso much older than Reggy or myself.” ** He’d ’a’ been nigh upon forty. Well, ke was always kind to his old nurse, that I know, if he was a bit extravagant, which I don’t deny.. Young men willbe young men. Mr. Reggy’s a
Page 4
* HAUNTED HEARTS. wonder, so full 0’ eh and up toeverything, an’ yet that steady! Well, good-night, Miss Delia, or I sball talk till dawn. Delia returned her good-night kindly, and ere she laid her head on her pillow, once more drew aside her curtain, and gazed out on the enchant- ing prospect of snow, lighted by the rays of the moon, What a start she gave as she gazed! Was it fancy, or was there actually the dim figure of a man, wearing a slouch hat, standing out there amid the snow-wreaths? As she propounded this question to her own fast-beating heart, two o’clock tolled out upon the stillness of early morning. CHAPTER IT. THE TAP AT THE WINDOW. RETURNING daylight awakened Delia, and her first remembrance was connected with the oc- currence of last night. ** Atleast,” thought she, ‘I can trace the mark of footsteps in the snow, if a man really was there by the old cedar tree!” But what was her disappointment to find that a thaw had set in, and that rain had been pour- ing down. ‘ There was no chance now of seeing the mark of footsteps in the sodden snow. “And so you saw a ghost last night, D.” asked Reginald, jokingly, ashe greeted his siste: at breakfast. “So says Deborah,” she answered. “You should have Jet me go and search for the apparition last night, Miss Larch,” remark- ed Lord Lindsay, taking the place by her side. ** Will you come and show me the exact spot where you discovered it? Then I shall know, in case you wish to send me after it on some other on. “By all means; for it is not every one who would have the courage to pursue a ghost,” laughed Delia. 5 “Then you will really come out and instruct me as to the whereabouts of the apparition?” pursued he, E Delia said ‘‘ Yes,” with a little blush, for her heart told her what his anxiety to encounter the ghost really meant. Was it not for the charm of being alone with her that he petition- ed in this earnest way that she should show him the exact spot near the cedar tree? Of course this was patent to others as well as to Delia; but, as no one could see any reason why Lord Lindsay should not fall in love with her, nobody thought of checking their inter- course. ; And so they went out together, though it threatened - rain, and the prospect out of doors was dim and gloomy. But what “as that to these light-hearted peo- le? They were together, and to them the feaden sky looked bright. . Happy thoughts, brimful of bliss, were cours- ing through the young man’s brain as he walk- od by Delia’s side along the curving graveled pathway which led to the cedar tree. s hopes ieaped up, and would not be repressed. Surely ho might hope now? This sweet and most lov- able girl would never deceive any man! And iney she had listened, not unwillingly, to his words, and her smiles and blushes came and went when he addressed her. Should he risk all on a word? How soon might he tell her—so far as speech could do that—how infinitely dear she was to him? That was the thought in his heart as they went on toward the cedar tree. ‘Here it was that I noticed the figure,” said Delia, softly. ‘* But now there are only patches of snow, so we cannot determine whether or no any one came here.” ** Who saysthat?” cried Lord Lindsay, hasten- ing forward, and picking up, near the side of the path, a handkerchief, not very noticeable, lying against a patch of melting snow. ‘Here is a remnant of the apparition, I do believe!” exclaimed he. ‘‘ Well, he has some taste; for this is white, and fine cambric. Now for the name of his ghostship.” Delia looked with some interest, as the letters «J. L.” were found embroidered in a corner of the handkerchief. ‘*T must show this to my old nurse, Deborah who really believes I saw a spirit last night,” she said. Just after this discovery, down came the rain, and our young couple hurried to the carriages which were to take the party to church this Christmas morning. The day flew by on light wings; for youth and health, and love sped the hours quickly. On the morrow, the large and merry assem- blage at the Abbey discussed, with much ani- mation, some amateur theatricals shortly to be performed there, in which Delia was to sustain one of the principal characters. “T hope yowll be ready for the rehearsal, Delia,” said her brother. ‘‘ We’re all waiting for you; and I don’t believe you’ve learnt a word of your part.” It was too true; and Delia declared that she would shut herself up immediately in the li- brary, and make up for past shorjcomings, “Now, nobody come near me for a whole hour. Leave me undisturbed, and I will forget everything but my part,” said she, gayly. Lord Lindsay opened the door for’ her exit, saying, in a very low tone, “‘ Remember me a little, even though you are determined to forget us all just now.” She made as though she heard nothing; but her heart beat fastas she entered the library. And she did remember Lord Lindsay, his last words and tones for the first few minutes chas- ing away all attention to the part she had to | learn, But she must compel herself to get the lines by note, else what would Reggy say? So she sat down resolutely, and fixed her eyes upon the page. For some short time all was quiet in the handsome apartment, and only the sighing of the winter wind made itself heard. But suddenly the quiet was disturbed by a noise against one of the long windows, which opened onto the pleasure-grounds—a noise, it might be, of a swaying bough against the pane, or a signal from some person outside, Delia looked up hastily. It was yet early, not much past five o’clock, o~ se Ae. f
Page 5
and the shutters in the library were not yet closed. ‘ She approached the window at which the sound was heard, and listened intently, im- pressed with the idea that somebody was there, while the remembrance of last night’s adven- ture, and of the handkerchief found the morn- ing before, immediately rushed into her mind. But she could distinguish no noise of footsteps amid the sighing of the wind, and returned to her book with redoubled attention. Then, once more the tap at the window was repeated—distinct and louder than at first. elia tried to persuade herself that it was oc- easioned by the swaying of a bough; but she was pretty sure that no branch had ever reach- ed that window before. Determined to pay no further attention, she read on. But again the persistent summons roused her. It was in vain she essayed to learn her part perfectly, and rising, softly, she unfastened, with a good deal of noise, the long French win- dow, and looked out into the darkness. ’ Gradually—for the moon struggled through clouds—the outlines of the wintry world with- out became visible; the dark belt of wood be- yond the lawn, and the nearer shrubs and trees. ‘If any one ta detect it!” thought learning her part. But no summons was repeated, and Delia, a little ashamed of having thought seriously of a noise outside the window on a winter night, resolved to say nothing of the tap on the slass. : “Timo is up, Delia,” said Reginald, peep- ingin,jlaughingly, about ten minutes afterward. “%And 1 am coming, Reggy. I have done pretty well,” answered she. ‘“‘That’s all right, then. again, I shall now be able to elia, watching, instead of Do come back with me tothe drawing-room now, or we shall have | He has | Lindsay doing something desperate. done noting: but fidget and look wretched ever since you left the room.” ‘*Pray do not be absurd, Reggy!” said Delia, reprovingly. ‘“‘It cannot matter to Lord Lind- say whether I am in the room or out of it.” This young lady was not well pleased to have her love-affairs hinted at, when the yet, in this undeclared state. Her life’s happi- ness depended on being assured of Lindsay’s love; but she was ready to feign profound in- difference, even to her darling brother, till what she hoped was made certainty by Lind- say’s own words. ‘Oh, very well! Then I’ve neither eyes nor ears,” laughed Reggy. ‘But, come along!” How often she looked back to these last happy hours, ‘this Jast happy evening, in the sorrow which rapidly overwhelmed her; the delightful talk with Lord Lindsay, the cheerful group of friends, the merry evening, the gay dinner, during which she sat by Lindsay’s side, and he whispered soft nothings which conveyed so much to her. And once, looking up, she caught a glance of radiant happiness from Fay’s blue eyes, and knew that her joy was caused by Reggy’s deep affection, were, as | HAUNTED HEARTS. 5 When—so few hours later—it lay with her to save that happiness from ruin, Delia remem- | bered that glance, and resolved that she would | suffer alone, that Fay and Reggy should not be separated because she herself must mourn. onder than ever was the hand-clasp Lord Lindsay gere to Delia that evening, as they said -night. She was still dreaming of it as she went into her own pretty room. | Her sweet musing was interrupted by the voice of Deborah, ‘1 made bold to wait here for you, Miss Delia,” said she, ‘‘for I’d somethin’ to ask you.” |_ ‘Certainly! Sit down, dear nurse,” said | Delia. Deborah sat down, nothing loth; but her face was sad, and she was paler than usual. ‘* Miss Delia,” said she, ‘‘l wanted to ask you if twas true what I heard them say in the ser- vants’ hall this evening, that you’d found a handkerchief near the spot where the appear- ance came last — but one ago?’ ‘How could I forget to tell you?’ cried Delia. ‘‘ Yes, nurse, dear, I did find a hand- kerchief. We were passing it round at luncheon | to find an owner for it, so then I suppose the servants heard what had happened.” . “That's just it, my dear miss! And you'll let me see it, won’t you?” “That you shall, nursie; and I am so glad to prove to you that it was really no ghost that I saw that night.” ‘Pm not so sure of that!” murmured De- borah. But Delia did not hear the old woman’s re- mark; she had risen to fetch the handkerchief. _ “Here it is,” said the young lady, return- ing. Deborah seized the piece of cambric; her fin- gers trembled, and she eagerly searched for the | mark in the corner. ‘ It was easily found—J. L., embroidered. Deborah continued to gaze on the letters so long, that, at length, Delia broke the silence with the remark she had made so lately. ‘“*You see now, dear nurse, that it could not have been a ghost that I saw.’ ‘Oh, Miss Delia!” exclaimed Deborah, get- ting up in great agitation. ‘‘Oh, Miss Delia!— it’s very awesome tomy mind! You mind, J. L. were his initials—your brother James’s—him you never saw! And this may be for a token, who’s to tell?” **My dear Deborah,” urged Delia, amazed at her old nurse’s credulity, ‘surely Rhy will not let an accidental coincidence like this make you believe that there was any connection be- tween my poor brother, so long since dead, and the handkerchief found yesterday morning? Don’t you see that it must have belonged to somebody whose names begin with the letters J. L.? And who ever heard of a po ing about a cambric handkerchief, very nicely marked, certainly ?” ‘Don’t joke, Miss Delia. I know it does seem —— to you; but still it may be for a to- | ken “Give me a kiss and go to bed, dear nurse,” said Delia,
Page 6
ers 2 6 HAUNTED HEARTS. And Deborah sighed, and left the young lady to repose. When she was quite alone, when her maid had closed the door for the night, and the wind, roaring without, only made the coutrast to her cosey room more pleasant, Delia drew aside her =" and took a long look from the win- ow. She smiled at herself as she did so; but in the moonlight, which now reigned supreme, no figure in a slouched hat was visible. ‘*T must have been mistaken! Only how did the handkerchief get there?” With this careless question she dismissed the inquiry, and sunk to rest with thoughts of Lind- say. CHAPTER III. THE SECOND TAP AT THE WINDOW. Dusk is creeping again next afternoon over the silent world, and once more Delia sits in the handsome library at the Abbey, learning her part in the play. Many joyous hours have intervened since this time yesterday; many a tender glance and word trom Lindsay have penetrated the young girl’s heart. More than ever is she assured that he loves her, Yes, assured; such tones, such softly-breath- ed words, could have but one meaning. No trouble of heart mingles with this blissful thought; but she half murmurs to herself: ‘* We sball be as happy as Fay and Reggy.” The proposed rehearsal had been postponed for a oey or two, as Delia is obliged to confess that she is afraid she is not perfect in her art. “Pu shut her up till you do learn it, D.,” says Reginald, laughingly. elia, repentant, promises seth Se And now she sits, as dusk is falling, in the library, occupied in the same way as she was about this bour yesterday. It is a little earlier, itis true, and the gloom without is weird and melancholy. Do her thoughts wander from the page before her to the tap which came so lately to the win- dow? Unconsceiously, perhaps: for when a footman enters to shut out the night, Delia looks up and desires him to leave one shutter unfastened. He wonders why, but obeys. She has succeeded in committing two pages of her part to memory, and has forgotten the interruption which troubled her yesterday, when, all at once, when most unexpected, the tap at the window is repeated. An imperative, and yet an uncertain sum- mons; and Delia, half-frightened, glances at the window, herself unseen. But from her seat she can distinguish nothing. The blackness of night reigns without, made more intense by the brightness within. “ {tis absurd to let such a small thing ivter- rupt me,” thought Delia, going on with her task, when “Tap, tap, tap!” sounded with sol- emn distinctness on the window-pane. “T will discover the cause,” thought she; and noiselessly left her cosey seat by the fire, and stationed herself close to the casement. Theré she stood, listening for the e ted sound. And it returned, ‘‘ Rap, rap!” against the window. By one swift movement, Delia sppceeoe sud- denly close to the glass, but started back with a smothered exclamation; for there, unmistak- ably, was the same figure she had seen on Christmas Eve, amid the snow! It-did not now retreat into the darkness, but pressed close to the casement, making a mute appeal. Desrair seemed impressed on its whole bearing, and this mingling of entreaty and de- spair chained Delia to the spot immoveble. It was but a brief moment which passed thus; then, as she would have fled away to suranion Reginald, the figure held up to view a larzo let- ter, deposited it outside the casement, and van- ished from sight. The curiosity of Delia was excited to the highest pitch. By nature she was brave rather than timid, and the mystery of the affair alto- — urged her to see what the letter con- tained. The figure had vanished into the darkness, but the white envelope was distinct enough against the glass, The window opened easily from within, though it was secure from entrance without. Delia put up her small white hand, slipped the bolt, and in one short instant—almost before she had time to feel the keen rush of cold air— net picked up the envelope and closed the glass oor. How strange an adventure? Would Reggy say she had better not have taken in tho letter? She must get hold of him before dinner, and they would talk it ov-r together. The young girl hurried to her seat by the fire, and broke the seal, noting, as she did so, that the writing was bold and firm, and that the letter was addressed to herself. One short moment more, and, pale and changed, she hur- ried to her room to read it alone. And as she fled, sho felt as if haunted bya mn dream, an unreality which clung to er. Sinking onto a couch in her dressing-room, she unfolded the paper. It began, ‘‘ My dear Delia,” and continued thus: “Let me entreat you to peruse this letter alone and to carry your thoughts back to the fact that there was a time when a brother you never knew kissed you—an unconscious baby of a year old—and left his old home to battle with life in a foreign land. Delia, my almost unknown sister, Jam that brother so long supposed to have died among the prairies of North America. The world believes me dead; and, my sister, it must think so—I dare not undeceive it. We will keep this secret between us; for why should I burden my young and happy brother with the knowledge of my existence? “Ah, no! I willleave to you and to him my wide inheritance, content to live in obscurity, to live broken-hearted, as Lhave merited. “And why do I deserve this fate? Because—(to you I must tell the undisguised Le me Delia)—be- cause have forfeited my position in the world; [ have placed myself, in a moment of wild frenzy, within reach of the law, and to proclaim my exist- ence would be to set the officers of justice after me, “You areso young that my childhood was passed ere you were born. Thus you know nothing of my father’s severity, norof my own hot temperament, I was born with this unhappy i. See Delia, and circumstances made it worse, T fell among wild
Page 7
HAUNTED HEARTS. z companions, who led me into debt. No wonder m father was angry, for my two years of college life fell heavily enough upon him. I gave wine-parties; betted; gambled; I orderede nsive luxuries with- out consideration of their cost. My fatherwas not then so wealthy as he became afterward; but rey | fortuue would have been squandered at the rate was living. But he paid my debts, and received m solemn assurance of amendment. And, Deli meant to keep faith with him; but was so easily led astray—fool that I was! a ‘““Why prolong the story? It wil! be enough if you are told the result of my mad conduct. Aftera year’s misery, my father learned the truth—that I was as heavily in debt as before. Can you wonder that though he again discharged myliabilities, he would no longer believe my promises of reform? Delia, he was obliged to.act as he did—for at that time the Abbey was under repair, and, he did not then own Mount’s Castle, nor wasit certain that he would ever become the owner of so large a property. And so, as [had ruined my career in England, and spent a fortune, he proposed that I should go abroad for some years on a small fixed allowance, and try my abilities in America, “] was willing enough to go; it gave change and excitement. Can you credit, Delia, that before I Janded I had gambled away all my ready money? . You were a year old when I started. I will not tell you the many scrapes I got into; they were wild, but not unpardonable for the first few years. Lliked the keen air of the Rocky Mountains, the excitement of the hunting expeditions on the prairies. My father remitted my allowance of three hundred a year regu- larly; but you will understand that three hundred a year was nothing to a man who had spent three thou- sand in a few weeks. ** Well, of course, I was always indebt. I gambled and was often successful; 1 speculated in cattle, an reaped some profit—all at haphazard. **One day, when I had been nine years in the far West (my father had assured me that he could with difficulty retrieve his position in a dozen teat so much had my extravagance impoverished him), I joined another man in a hunting expedition. His surname happened to be the same as my own— Larch. He was a saving fellow, crafty and business- like—very different tome. Isaw thatif I could join him ina speculation, I should make money rapidly. The only thing was, Thad not the sum necessary pay, down. . “To be brief over this painful part of my story, Delia, I forged a check on a fellow I knew, intendi to pay the money back. The latter and myself ha been close friends; but when he discovered the cheat Ihad practiced on him, his anger knew no bounds, He pursued me into the prairie—I believing myself secure, “Well, it so chanced that the poor fellow I had started with was bitten by a rattlesnake, and as we had not brandy enough to dose him with, he died ina few hours. Two or three others were with us—hired men. Lhad hired them; but they knew nothing of me. “In my wild career I had done a kind action now and then, when the fancy took me; and I had per saved a man from disgrace by payment of a sm sum, It was he who found me just in time to warn me of my former friend’s pursuing vengeance, In a twinkling I had arranged escape. I abandoned the hunting expedition, settled with the fellows I had hired, telling them that as poor Larch was dead, I had no heart to go on—knowing well that they would meet m eked and tell their tale. ** And so ete eved me dead. But he had his re- venge, though unconscious of it; for he knew all about my connections in England, knew everything concerning me, and would have rejoiced to expose me had I beenalive. He woulddo so nowif hecould trace me: and he is a middle-aged man, well and pavepenens. Now do you see, Delia, why I have been silent during the eight years which have elapsed since this happened? No, notquite vet; for you can never understand the deep horrorI felt whenI con- sidered of what I had been guilty. Iwas a forger, and judged myself unworthy of inheriting my father’s name and place. Isaid to myself, ‘Let my brother take my position. The world supposes me dead; let me accept that as true. My family shall feel no more disgrace from me.’ “But still another motive kept me silent, Delia. That very night, whenI thus managed to spread a report of my own death, inseeking to evade a fellow who knew_me, and to whom I owed money—that very night I got into a quarrel with him, and—in self- defense, I solemnly assure you, Delia—stabbed him; not so deeply as to cause his death, I hope devoutly, I think, Ibelieve not; but of this Iam uncertain. “T fled; changed my name; took to farming, and prospered for atime. Aud I meant—I solemnly as- sure you this, my sister—I meant to die silently, nor ever to burden you—oh, you, least of all!—with the secret of my existence. “But a time came when I fell ill—very ill; and when I recovered, 1 had to recognize the fact that I must live with impaired health henceforward. The ople who employed me were always asking if I ad no friends in England who would helpme. And then I thought that, in return for the inheritance I willingly ferfeit (have I not said how unworthy I judge myself to possess it?), you would secure to me some fixed and modest pittance out of the thousands you possess. Five hundred a year would make me not only independent, but give me comforts in my de- clining years. Iam forty now, and feel that I shall not leng be a burden to you. “But I amin sore want of every necessary. I have borrowed for my passage to England. Can you at once let me have a hundred pounds, Delia? “TI cannot think that you will refuse, for that would be to let me die of starvation, or else to goad me into declaring my identity—in which case the law would lay hoid of me; or there is still a last way of escape for those who have neither money nor friends—viz., to destroy myself. Shallit be so, belia, or will you come to my rescue, like an angel of reef ’ “If you will be such to me, give me your answer to-morrow evening at_ dusk, outside the library win dow 1 know so well. Your despairing brother, “James Larcu,” The letter fell from the hands of the fainting Delia. It was well that she was quite alone, that no one came to intrude on her solitude just then, or her secret must have been known—the dreadful secret which was none of her mak- ing. K tter a time, she roused herself suddenly. A sort of desperation seized the girl. It seemed to her that if she did not keep up the reg ance that all was well with her just now, i- nald’s happiness must be forfeited forever. t if she could be strong, just for a little while; if she could laugh while her very soul was rent with a thousand agonies; if she could be brave enough to utter a few gay words, and go out and in among them all—then, it seemed to her, that out of the frightful wreck of her own ha pee she might save Reggy’s. He could appy with Fay—he who would wed her in in- nocent ignorance of the blot on the honor of their name; but she herself could accept the hand of no honorable man—she who was now aware that she had a dishonored brother. Was he worse even than dishonored? Had he taken a man’s life? Not with premeditation, perha but in hot anger, through wrong-doing? Oh, horrible! Was it for the sister of such a man to wed Lindsay Deane? Never! never! It
Page 8
would break her heart to the word which would separate her from Lindsay; but honor, ges faith to him she loved so well, bound her every tie to do so. After that she could leave the Abbey; could die quietly in some soli- tude abroad, and prey would only say that she had fallen into ill health, ‘‘Oh!” she cried, starting up as she thought this; ‘‘oh! can this dreadful thing be true?’ And all at once she said to herself that it might not be true—she would not give entire credence to so wild a tale till she had proof of it. But yet, in her inmost soul, she felt it must be true. It tallied with some things she had heard spoken of her elder brother. Tales of his wild ne oan, of their father being obliged to send him abroad, had reached her, as well as the story of his death from the bite of a rattle- snake, But still she said to herself that she would demand further proofs. : Giddy and trembling, she remained in her own room till her maid came to dress her for dinner, and she descended to the large circle of guests below only at the last moment. Reginald met her with a reproachful inquiry as she entered, ‘‘ Where have you hidden your- self so long? And our play, when is that to betrs I aca t well, Re; dear,” she whispered was not we , dear,” she w . and her troubled ioe. bore out her words. ** Some one else must take may pate in the the- atricals. I should keep you all waiting too long forme. Hush! don’t make a fuss about it! Mrs. Ashley is moving to go down to dinner.” All through the evening which followed Delia felt in a strange, unreal existence, rd Lindsay glanced at her with infinite concern. Where were her Ne meng, Seca. her lively talk—above all, that look of PPY mirthfulness that is so beautiful to see? In place of all this, = combined with high resolve, sat now on er youthful features; and once or twice he u tt the glint of tears under her long lashes. hat did it mean? Wasshe in any trouble? If that were so, how could her brother, Regi- nald Larch, be so gay and unconcerned? ‘Will you forgive me for asking if there is anything which has distressed you to-night?” asked Lindsay, in low tones, taking the vacant seat by her side. “What should trouble me, Lord Lindsay?” said she, lightly, as she turned away, But her lip quivered as she spoke, and her as- t stirred a tumult of unrest in his heart, as she egan to turn over some photographs on a table near, without even seeing them, so greatly had her sorrow absorbed her. A little later in the evening, feeling it impos- sible to bear up any longer, she slipped away from the gay group in the saloon, and reached herownchamber. Butshe did not stay there long; she d out of it again, and down a long corridor, through a swing door, which shut off rooms which had once formed the nursery suit of rooms at the Abbey. Old Deborah still occupied two of them, and here Delia could be pretty sure of finding her at this hour on a winter evening. ‘Bh, dear! is it you, Miss Delia?’ cried De- borah, as the young girl entered. ‘‘I am hon- -t ca HAUNTED HEARTS. ored to see you here when all the gay visitors want you down below.” ‘*T am not well to-night, dear nurse; and have come for a little talk with you.” ‘¢-You’re more than welconie, dear Miss Delia, Is there anything now that I can do for you?” a ; talk to me about my brother James who went abroad, and died there. You remem- ber him well, don’t you?” “TI nursed him as a Laby; ’tisn’t like as J should forget him, Miss Delia. He was tall and broad-shouldered—a fine-looking gentleman when he leftus all, Ah, dear! money’s the root of all evil, and it was on account of that he had to go, my dear.” “How so, nurse? Do you mean that he spent toomuch? Ihave heard aunt Mary say that he did. But I don’t exactly understand why he had to stay so long away.” “Poor Mr. James was extravagant—awfal extravagant; and got so much in debt that for a time he nearly ruined your poor papa. He had to put down his carriages and sell his horses, and it was a great grief to your dear mamma. She died three years after Mr. James went to America, Miss Delia, and so was spared the sorrow of hearin’ about his death out alone in the far wilds. Ah, r Mr. James! The news of his death didn’t reach the Abbey for months after it took place; but, naturally, when he didn’t write to acknowledge the money your papa sent him, and no letters came for so long, then inquiry was made, and that was how our poor papa found out that, without a doubt, e’d died hunting on the prairies. He'd spoken in his last letter about this hunting expedition, and said about how long he’d meant to be gone afore he went back to any town, and mentioned a person he knew well. And 50, through that letter, master traced what had happened. An’ twas put in all the papers how that Mr. James had died from the bite of a snake—a rattle- snake ’twas that killed him.” Delia’s heart beat painfully. Everything De- borah said agreed with the fatal letter which had reached her in so oy pa tan @ manner, and which had uprooted all her innocent joy. She did not ask many more questions, but sat with her head on Deborah’s lap as she had so often done when a little child. She seemed frozen with horror at the dreadful knowledge which had come to her. When she arose to say aor nig, Deborah was alarmed at the sorrow on her face. ‘I mustn’t talk about poor Mr. James again, my dear Miss Delia, that’s plain. It has made you ill, I declare!” When Delia reached her own room, she made haste to shroud her despair in darkness and si- lence. But she could not sleep; and when all the large household was at rest, she arose, light- ed her candles, aud sat down to her writing-ta- ble, as the clock boomed three. CHAPTER IV. THE UNKNOWN BROTHER, Wnuart was shawriting there? Her unsteady ~— could hardly trace the words, but she had decided what must be done, and she did it, ‘
Page 9
HAUNTED HEARTS. “If it be really so,” she wrote—“ if you are actu- ally my brother, I will not refuse to do a sister’s part, even though we are strangers, and must re- mainso. Give me proofs of what you advance, and when I come of age, and have money in my own control, a thousand a year shall be secured to you for life. More should be yours if I could give it, and still avoid the discovery you dread. To me wealth is all but useless, for I the remainder of my life in solitude if ra can satisfy me of the truth of your identity with my ee ome dead brother. Till I come of age, I can but divide with you my al- lowance. ‘With this Iinclosefive pounds. Letme find your proofs to-morrow evening at the window where you aa the letter I have from you, and you shall ave fifty pounds at once. D.L.” And with this effort the sweetness of life went out for the fair Delia. Lindsay loved her, and she was bound by her very love for him to re- ject his affection. Lindsay loved her, and she would have to speak the words which would send him from her! When morning dawned, of all that large household of which she was mistress, Delia alone arose with an aching heart, weak and ill with the shock she had received, but yet re- solved to make an effort to join the party at breakfast, and she hoped to make the plea of headache account for her altered looks. And she was successful, save where Lord Lindsay was concerned; for what can deceive a lover’s eye? No headache could make the sweet face of his beloved one wear such a look of sadness; of that he was assured. And there was a moment after breakfast, as the group around the well-spread board was dispersing, when she met Lin say ae ance fixed on her with anxious affection. hat was it brought such an added touch of pain to her brow as she turned away? “Shall you venture to walk to-day? Would not the air do you good?” said he, as he ob- served her about to leave the breakfast-room. “IT think not,” she answered, with assumed carelessness, “Not one turn in the grounds? Let me per- suade you to try the remedy, and honor me by taking me for your escort,” ed he. But Delia had done with that loved compan- ionship now. No more sauntering by his side, as she had done but two short mornings ago, Now all was changed for her, and she lived ina world with a black shadow over it, into which no man or woman must look. Let her, then, be careful not to drag Lindsay Deane into it with her. She left him, then, with another courteous re- fusal, and again he noticed with extreme con- cern the anguish she sought to conceal. And so, while Reginald and Fay went off to- gether on horseback thissuuny winter morning, which melted the last remnant of snow in the most sheltered places, Delia remained alone in her room, frozen, Geapatreg. Lindsay, as unhappy as herself, though in a different way, wandered in and out of the house, counting the hours as they went by till he should again see Delia. At luncheon she did notappear. Mrs, Ashley said she was keeping quiet to be quite well by the evening. ould she be quite well by that time? thought Lindsay—the look of pain gone from that sweet brow, and the old careless se- renity reigning in its place? All the long day went by for him without Delia. Reginald went to see her, and so did Fay and Mrs, Ashley; but she sent them all away, saying quiet was all she wanted. They did not seem alarmed about her. ‘‘She would join them at dinner,” they said. And with that seemed satisfied. In the afternoon, as dusk crept on, Delia left the shelter of her room, and went softly down the wide staircase. She could hear the click of billiard balls. That was well. The gentlemen were doubtless in the billiard-room, the ladies in the saloon, She should, then, find the library untenanted, and be able to deposit her letter outside the window. Yes; her conjecture was correct. The lofty apartment was glowing with ee and a single taper burned on a distant table, but no one was there. With rapid step she crossed the room, un- fastened the shutter, unclosed the window, and shaking from head to foot, gave her letter to the mercy of the night winds, Was it carried away? Was he, the unknown brother, watching for it in the darkness? Sup- pose that other hands than his found that let- ter ! She had shut the casement, but remained watching—watching. Not for long, though. A re moved on the other side of the long glass door, stooped, rose up again, and was gone—the figure of a man in a slouch hat. Delia shuddered, and essayed to close the shutter she had unbarred. But that was too much for her feeble strength now that she was trembling with dread an fear. Again and again she made the effort, however, for she did not wish to be asked to ac- count for having unfastened the shutter. In her haste she let slip the heavy bar; the noise made by this prevented her hearing the opening of the door; and she started with sur- prise and apprehension as Lord Lindsay’s voice addressed her: ‘Let me close that shutter for you, pray, Miss Larch! How pleased I am to see you!—to have the hope of ae joining us this evening. [I lit- tle thought to find you when I came in here.” He had spoken with the glad surprise he felt at this unexpected rencontre with his beloved, and his joy gave place to uneasy astonishment as he observed how disconcerted she was at his presence, Why did she tremble? Why did she shrink from him? She looked asif she had been star- er interrupted in something she would fain e. But he quickly told himself that all she did was fair and good, and could not be otherwise. “Were you looking out at the night?’ con- tinued he, smiling down upon her. ‘Shall I open the window for you again?” shrinking back, ‘No, no!” cried she, quic iy and her voice full of fear. mean,” she add- ed, striving to resume her ordinary manner ane tone, “that I won’t go on looking at the 8 Y Dia you see the sunset?” asked he, coming
Page 10
HAUNTED HEARTS. close to her side, hoping to detain her if but a few moments. It was so sweet to him to be thus alone with her. Oh, that he dared feel that this was the propitious moment to tell her of his love! “The sunset?’ said she. “Surely there was no sunset to notice to-night?” “‘Yes, such a remarkable one. Miss Earle meant to make es look at the sky.” “Ah, yes—I remember now!” exclaimed Delia, hastily and confusedly, with the air of one who strives to recall a forgotten circum- stance. In truth, the trouble pressing upon her had chased small occurrences away. Lord Lindsay could not help saying to him- self, ‘‘ What is it that absorbs her, and why was she so troubled at my appearance just now?” But the affection he had for her overpowered those minor questionings, and he said, in a tone low and lover-like, ‘‘ T had so looked forward to to-day—to the happiness of spending some of it with you! And it has been so long, for I have counted the hours as they went by, because our society was denied me! Are you reall better now? Were you going to rest here t dinner-time?” “T—JI wandered down here for a little change,” stammered she. ‘1 will go and find Fay. Buti will not talk much now, or I shall be stupid instead of agreeable this evening.” ‘‘Never aught but agreeable to me /’”’ breathed he, softly. And he had already imprisoned her fingers in his own—how unnaturally cold they were!— when the sound of voices, the opening of the door, the. entrance of Mrs. Ashley and Fay, in- terrupted him. “Since I dare not accept the love I feel that he would offer if I permitted him, let me avoid the dreadful pain of having to reject him in so many words,” thought the unhappy girl. ‘I will spare him the mortification; | will spare myself the task which would be too great for me; I will avoid him, and he will understand. It is but for a few days more!” Several times that evening, as Lord Lindsay sat by her side, did he detect the large tears well to her eyes—tears which she forced back, Once, indeed, the effort was too great for her; she had to rise hurriedly on some pretense to conceal the telltale anguish in her face. But a moment after she turned, and faced the assembled party with some gay remark, and no one detected her sorrow but he who watched her so lovingly. “She is grieving about so ething—something she is trying to conceal! Oh, that she would let me share her unhappiness, and take all her cares upon me!” And then it was natural that he should ask himself what secret cause of trouble she could have. She, the heiress of Larch Abbey, with the whole world at ber feet! Who rect her without deference or affection? No one. Mrs. Ashley petted, her brother adored her; all the good gifts of life were hers! But to Lindsay Deane it was but too patent that there was a secret sorrow cankering her life, and ' what it might be, deeply concerned him to dis- cover, But Delia gave him no chance of that. She was surrounded by a laughing group all the evening, and the next morning drove out with Mrs. Ashley; while, after luncheon, she disap- peared altogether. Where were those happy moments, once so frequent, when his love fer her was dawning in sweetest hope? When she would linger willing- My by his side, and shyly respond with smiles? ne! Gone, almost as if they bad never exist- ed, save for the pained constraint she evidently experienced now, and the pang of sorrowful re- gret with which he remembered them. Would ey return no more, or could they be wooed back? That was what he asked himself with infinite solicitude as he walked about the grounds, rest- less and moody, in the afternoon. And Delia? If Lindsay’s unrest was sore, how much more so was hers! ‘The hours which rolled away, bringing the dusk, were to bring also the proofs of her eldest brother's existence, and in so doing give her the indirect evidence of his guilt—his unworthiness! Suppose, too, the library should be tenanted, as was often the case toward evening? How should she possess herself of the letter which would, doubtless, be awaiting her outside the window? This was an added subject of anxiety. AS soon as darkness came creeping over the January sky, she left’ her room, (in which she had remained the whole afternoon), and sought the library. But she had hardly entered it, when she became aware that Lord Lindsay, her brother Reginald, and one or two people be- sides, were chatting round the fire, Immediately she retired; without being ob- served, as she imagined. But Lord Lindsay had seen her, and instantly followed into the hall, in the hope of exchanging one precious sentence with her; of getting some word, how- ever scant, from her dear So She did not perceive that he had followed her, and what was bis surprise at seeing her go te the entrance hall, open the door (which was only locked), and pass out into the cold air! Uncertain what to do, not daring to follow her, he stood irresolute; and, as he hesitated, asking himself what it meant, Delia returned, shivering, and asif suffering from suppressed excitement. It was plain, also, that she was atly disconcerted at finding him awaiting er there, But she strove to speak lightly. ‘When cne has a stupid headache, a dose of fresh air sometimes does more good than any- thing else,” said she, trying to smile—trying to prevent her agitation from betraying itself. He was silent, for she spoke with a f smile, an assumed calm. “But perhaps it was unwise to go without any wrap, and so late,” continued she. ‘* How- ever, it is but just five o’clock.” “Will you forgive me,” said Lindsay, ap- roaching her, and speaking with infinite affec- ion in his voice, infinite tenderness looking out of his eyes—‘‘ will you forgive me if Lask to know what it is which troubles you—and—to share it?” The avowal of the devotion he felt for her trembled on bis lips; he longed to tell her that
Page 11
HAUNTED HEARTS. ll he was there thenceforth to take all her cares on himself, when she prevented his further ch. “You are not to assume that I have troubles, Lord Lindsay, and [ must not stay shivering here, or I shall soon have an undeniable trouble in the shape of a cold.” And she left him standing there, and ran up- stairs. Left him with unspeakable anxiety and pain in his heart. ” Delia carried with her even a deeper grief than his. She had rushed round at all hazards to the library window, and there had found the letter she sought. That was the weight she car- ried, and with it misery without end in this life, She burst into uncontrollable tears when in the retirementof her own room; and as soon as she could still them, took out the fatal letter, or ratber the packet, for such it was. Bending down before the bright fire blazing in the polished grate, her shaking fingers sepa- rated the many letters in the parcel. What were they? Oh, she discerned, easily! Full well she recoguized the handwriting of a dear old aunt, now abroad forthe winter. Here were many of her letters, sent years since, to her nephew James in America. Shoe had always corresponded with him, and would remember him well. Here was proof, indeed! But the letter from her outcast brother con- tained many proofs, for in it he alluded to much that it was impossible for any stranger to have _ known. And there were fletters from her father and his—Delia knew the writing well. Could she cherish a doubt any longer? Alas! sbe knew now that she could not, The letter from her brother himself was as follows: ‘Tf these inclosures are not conclusive proof, what other can Ioffer you? But can you doubt that Iam indeed your brother, Delia?—erring, indeed, but suf- fering and repentant, and still your brother! “See me but once—I have no right to petition for more than one interview; and we can then arrange a way in which you may transmit to me money for my pressing wants. Win must see that it is in:pos- sible we can correspond in this way. Any one may find our letters, or may see you or me at the library window, and then all sorts of surmises might arise, unpleasant to yourself. Let me persuade you, then, to grant me one interview—itis your own brother who implores it. To-morrow I will be in the deer- shed in the park, ian the hope that you will come to me there, and in a few moments will do more toward arranging future matters than could many letters, I will be in the deer-shed at eleven o'clock. “Oh, Delia! do not fail your wretched brother! And do one thing before you come to settle your last doubt as to my identity. There must surely be several of my letters to my father still in existence. Compare these with the writing in this note to you, and you will find the similarity, even though a bro- ken wrist has disabled me from entirely preserving the firm hand I once wrote, “Your troubled and unhappy brother, ‘James Lancy.” The last hope was over for Delia. Kneeling there in the firelight, with ever luxury surrounding her, she felt the cold chill of actual despair. ‘(He has slain a man, perhaps! And is a forger!” she went on, murmuring to herself; }as some time ‘©and I—I am his own sister! What right have such as I to the love of Lindsay Deane?” Overwhelmed with grief, she knelt on, for- getting all the passing events of the hour. Her maid’s summons at the door first roused her. “T knocked ten minutes ago, miss, but you did not hear; but it’s just within a quarter of an hour of dinner, and I was afraid there would be no time to dress you.” “ Delia sat passive as her maid rearranged her air. That individual, after a short cough or two, ventured a remark. ““There’s been great excitement in the ser- vants’ hall to-night, miss; and I’ve made bold to tell you, because of the handkerchief which ‘was found, miss, and the figure you thought you saw on Christmas Eve.” Delia felt a chill run through her. ‘What of that?” she asked, faintly. ‘“Why, miss, the under footman, JolLn going round with a message to the stables just after dusk, and he’d nearly reached the back court, when all at once he saw a tall figure, as black as night, in a sort of wide-awake hat, glaring on him with a wild stare. John was that terrified, he’d no heart to seize him; and now some of the servants say ’tis a ghost, miss, and that twas well John left him alone.’ Delia could speak no word in reply. Her color came and went painfully. “Td no intention to frighten you, miss,” said the maid, poticing her young lady’s agitation. ““Does John believe it was a ghost he saw?” asked Delia, faintly. “Ym not sure, miss,” replied the maid. Delia never knew how she got through that dreadful evening. If she had been hesitat- ing about meeting her elder brother, this - talk with the maid would have decided her to consent to the interview. He must not hover about the Abbey, and run the risk of detection. For what might not follow on detection? Trial for forgery! trial for a far worse crime! The thought was agonizing to dwell on! When the morning dawned Delia had lived through ages of misery. She had resolved to see her brother, to give him all the money she had by her, and to show him the necessity of fixing his residence far from his old home, During breakfast she could barely md to the remarks addressed to her; but she felt con- strained to join the family circle at the morning meal, otherwise, if she pleaded illness and yet was seen heey ine Jove house for a walk so early fore eleven o’clock, it would naturally awaken comment. Reginald and Fay, both extremely happy, were arranging plans for the day; Mrs. Ashley reading her many letters; the rest of the visi- tors engaged in breakfast, newspapers and con- versation, when Delia left. the room for the dreaded interview in the deer-shed. No one observed her quiet departure save Lord Lindsay; he was watching her with loy- ing and despairing eyes. 7 Constantinian
Page 12
HAUNTED HEARTS. CHAPTER V. THE INTENVIEW. Sue had put on a fur cloak and hat, and car- ried the fifty pounds she was to give her out- east brother. Todo this she would have to go well-nigh penniless for the next three months; for, not being of age, she had as yet only her al- lowance of three hundred a year for dress and charities, her brother (on the decease of her late guardian) managing for her the funds of the Larch Abbey estate. But Delia thought nothing of the money; even the dread of meeting her unknown and outcast relative was swallowed up in the ab- sorbing desire that no one should see whither she went this morning. Breathless and terrified, she passed down the sunny carriage drive, then made a curve out of sight of the house toenter the park. But this was a round which would consume at least or minutes, and it was now turned half-past n. In her alarmed state, eager to get the inter- view over, she left the broad drive, in order to walk across the thick, wet grass, which was so laden with moisture as to be nearly as watery as a river. Delia hesitated one instant, then struck across the greensward. A voice behind arrested her progress. ‘* Miss Larch, let me beg of you not to risk a cold. The grass has never been dry for the last two months.” It was Lord Lindsay who spoke, and now stood beside her. He was unprepared for the look of dismay—nay, more than that, the ter- ror she betrayed. She grew pale; trembled visibly; essayed to speak, and could not pronounce a word. At last, forcing a smile, which nearly wrench- ed his heart in twain, she stammered out: **I do not mind wet grass. I could not live in the country without crossing it every day.” “* But such grass!” persisted he. ‘* You must have wet feet already, no matter how thick your boots.” “‘ Whoever heard of wet boots being hurtful while one is walking?’ exclaimed Delia, with apt Made hain Log shiver of cold and pain. “ It is standing about in them which is danger- ous, so I will go on quickly. Good-by for the Hg eo Lord Lindsay. Iam bound for a long wa _ In truth, she hardly knew what she was say- ing. “Tf you are resolved to go on, let me at least have the—the happiness of accompanying you?” urged he, persuasively, adoringly. “Certainly not,” replied Delia, in despair. “‘T shall never get back if I stay talking here. Once more, good-by, Lord Lindsay.” And she walked on quickly. “Stay! he implored. ‘ Miss Larch—Delia— spare me a few moments. You cannot guess how Ihave looked for a chance such as this—a few moments—to tell you something of which my heart is full.” ‘*1 can stay for nothing ~ow,” she faltered, with a wretched attempt to speak lightly, to seem atease, ‘See! I am shivering; that is be- cause I am standing in damp boots. So, now I am off, and forbid you to follow me.” And she left him, without looking back. Lindsay Deane stirred not, What could she mean? Why did she persist in leaving him? Why was she in such a tremor at meeting him there? And what madness led her to wade through the sopping grass, rank and thick enough to make any one avoid it? She had forbidden him to fonlow, but he lin- gered still where she had left him, regardless of the cold. Slowly, and with misery at heart, coupled with a vague uneasiness, he regained the plea- sure-grounds, and then stood still again. Suddenly, with a gesture of despair, he went out into ‘the high road which skirted the grounds, and began to walk at a rapid pace. And as he went, his eyes turned restlessly in the direction of the park where Delia had left him. All at once he caught sight of her again—at a good distance off, it is true; but he could plain- ly distinguish that it was she, and that she was hurrying along in a dip of the ground, quite off the path, where, at this season, the saturated grass must make walking a penance. In amazement he checked his pace and watch- ed her. She went on swiftly in a straight course; then, abruptly turning at right angles, made for the deer-shed. And now we will go back to Delia herself, whose excitement had become so great that she entered the rough shed as pale as a ghost, and could not control her sobs, while she shook from head to foot. Her startled glance around met no one; but she had barely time to lean for support against the door, when a figure came slowly into view from the dim recesses of the shed. A tall, well-made, muscular man, about forty years of age, broad-shouldered and dark, who had been handsome, but who now looked worn and tired—in all things answering the descrip- tion of her elder brother. “* Delia!” said he, in a hollow voice, approach- ing her. He did not put out his hand; he was sad, and his large, mournful eyes seemed to express, “Though I am your brother, Iam unworthy to clasp your hand.” Delia’s sobs became, for a moment, uncon- trollable, “Hush, my sister!” he breathed, softly. ‘For one moment let me call you so, Are we not to part forever again after this interview? Let me, then, ask you a few questions in this only chance which I can ever hope for of learn- ing some things my heart yearns te know.” | ‘Take this first!” were the words which broke from the agonized Delia. ‘‘There are fifty pounds. I shall be unable to let_you have any more for three months; but then I will send ‘you seventy.” “Oh, Delia! how good you are! You have saved me from despair!” said he, as he received the money. She made a strong effort at self-control, and added: ; “We may be interrupted; so we must settle
Page 13
Hy HAUNTED first the most necessary things. You must de- cide on an address where remittances may reach you, and you must leave this neighbor- hood, The servants have seen you already. Happily, Deborah is credulous, and has a fixed idea that your spirit haunts the Abbey; but that will not save you from ultimate discovery. You must leave the place at once.” “Yes, yes: you are right, Delia!” he return- ed, mournfully. ‘And see—I have written here my assumed name—‘ Robert Roberts’— and the address of my present lodgings in the next village. But I have resolved to go to Lon- don, where I can best hide myself, and my woes and sins. Take this paper, my poor sister, and never, never may you know a suspicion of the agony which tears my soul as [ stand here, an outcast, seeing my old dear home in the dis- tance, which I dare never reénter: seeing you, my only sister, close to me, face to face, after such an absence, and yet not daring to give you one embrace.” Delia wept anew; but she did not respond to the affection his words implied. She could feel nothing but terror and pity for this stranger-brother, whom she had never met before, and who had wrought them all so much woe. “Will you not take this paper with my ad- dress, Delia?” asked he, ey: She put. out her hand; and, as their fingers met, she involuntarily shuddered. “Ah!” he exclaimed. ‘ It is well we should not meet again; for it is too much for me, Delia, to witness youraversion. I have deserved it. I am far from denying that. But there are things very sharp to bear, even though well de- served, You will pass your life in ease, sur- rounded by friends and all that makes life bright, in the dear home from which I am ban- ished. You are so well guarded from sorrow, that you can realize but a faint idea of what my lot is, and must be.” , ‘Stay !” cried Delia, roused by the misery she was called to bear in silence through his reck- less wrong-doing. ‘‘Perhaps no one can do wrong without putting another to pain. I would not reproach you. I do recognize the misery of your lot; but have J nothing to bear? Did I not tell you that I should live in solitude if you proved your tale? Is it nothing, that I should have to renounce a happy love—a life with nothing to conceal? I love some one bet- ter than my life, and have made him wretched as myself. I renounce his affection. I shall live in continual sorrow, because I dare not let him marry me. How could I do so, now that our nate is dishonored? And 1 must bear this sorrow in silence, and never speak of it. Is all this nothing ” ! “Oh, Delia,” he cried, “ you must not do this thing! The world believes me dead. Have I not been buried virtually for eight years past? You must not do this thing!” ‘Tt is done,” she answered, more calmly. ‘¢ But I have risked much in coming here—very | much, Ask me anything you wish, as quickly as possible.” “Tell me, then, of the old place!” he cried. ‘Does my father’s portrait still hang in the HEARTS. 18 same room as when I wasa boy? Is ft in the library, opposite to the fireplace?” Delia nodded assent, ** And does his favorite chair still stand by the old writing-table he had there?” “Yes,” she said, faintly. ** And the look of the rooms—has new furni- ture altered their aspect, or are they the same? Oh, Delia, is there no way in which I might gain one last look at the dear old place? t me cross its sacred threshold once more,” ‘*'You ask what is beyond my power, beyond my strength,” she murmured. ‘* My heart bungers to see it again,” he said, pleadingly. ‘‘Think of some way, Delia, by which I may gain one fleeting sight of my own old home before I exile myself from it forever.” “Tt must be at your own risk, then,” faltered Delia. ‘Ob, think of your life, which you bitte 5 imperil if discovered, and do not ‘ask this. ‘“Your exiled brother implores it—it is a last prayer!” urged he. Poor Delia, reproaching herself for hardness of heart, faltered out that she could devise no plan unless she admitted him for a brief mo- ment to the library while some amateur theat- ricals were going on. ‘* And now I must leave you,” said she; ‘* and this interview cannot be repeated. It shakes me too much to have to contrive how to hide my actions.” ‘Good-by, then, my sister. May blessings follow you all through your life for the mercy you have shown to your brother!” **Good-by !” faltered she. And then she left him, and retook her way homewards, feeling that she was indeed forever separated from Lindsay Deane, CHAPTER VL MISJUDGED, ALL through the long, damp went the unhappy girl, so early robbed of her youthful joy by the hand of him who should have been er protector. On she went, a tempest of grief in her young soul, unconscious that Lindsay’s eyes were watching her movements. Dared he meet her as she regained the Abbey gardens? For what reason could she have sought the deer-shed, wading through what was almost a river? ‘*Has she some pet animal there, which she went to see?” was his next thought, as his eyes wandered to the distant shed, The next instant a dreadful chill seemed to take the life out of his heart, as he observed the figure of a man slink out of the rough shelter, and reach a slanting path which Ted him in an opposite direction to that pursued by Delia, as'this why she betrayed such terror at meeting himself? Did she—oh, perish such a thought!—did she go to meet some secret, un- acknowledged lover? Who was the man he had seen? He was at such a distance from the spot where Lindsay stood that it was impossible to determine whether he were a workman or a ntleman, ‘* After all, I may be accusing Delia, my own
Page 14
HAUNTED HEARTS. beloved Delia, wrongfully! ‘the man may bea | the coming amusement; but Lord Lindsay said keeper—that, doubtless, must be the explaua- tion! How could 1 torture myself and wron my darling by such a suspicion as I harkoced fora moment?” He drew a deep breath of relief; the sky which had seemed black in his moment of de- spair once more assumed its natural hue, and his step grew lighter. ‘‘Only why, why did she betray such evident agitation at meeting me? AmI anything or nothing to her, who is all the world to me?’ He would not venture to intercept Delia as she regained the Abbey, but he watched her till the last flutter of her robe disappeared within the entrance, Never had two hours appeared to him so un- ending as those which intervened between mid- day and two o’clock, He longed to see Delia again—would she appear at luncheon? Yes, she camein with Fay. They were dis- cussing the projected theatrical performance which was to come off to-morrow evening. bay was to take the part once assigned to Dela, and both the girls were merry over ib. Cculd she still laugh? Desperation makes us ready to assume pay disguise for our sorrow, and so Delia laughed, But as she sat opposite to Lord Lindsay, a swift pang smote his heart as he silently regarded her, there was such a pitiful expression of deep-seated pain on her young face as she relapsed for a few moments to silence, When the party rosofrom table, Lord Lindsay ventured to say to Delia, aside, ‘‘ You did not take cold, I hope, this morning?’ Delia answered, with a smile, ‘‘No; why should I? Fay, do come and tell, Lord Lindsay that girls brought up in the country are not afraid to walk a little way on the grass even in winter-time!” And then she drew Fa claring that there was still much to arrange for the theatricals, - Lindsay was in despair. Must he leave the Abbey without declaring his love? Why, that was what he had chiefly come there for! His father and all his family were aware of his affection for the beautiful heiress of Larch Abbey, and would be beyond measure delighted if he succeeded in his suit. But success seemed as far off as ever fro the young man. Nevertheless, he said to hithself, as he tried to bear his disappointment with a manly front, that he would certainly declare his devotion to her in plain words to-morrow even- ing; for then he would surely find a moment to breathe that devotion in her ear, while the ama- teur performance was going on, Having formed which resolution, he tried to bring patience to his aid for the hours which intervened. The whole afternoon was occupied with a re- hearsal, and servants were coming and going in all directions; for the ball-room at the Abbey, which opened into a room used as a breakfast- room, was on this occasion to do duty as a thea- ter, the numerous guests being seated as specta- tors in the smaller room. Delia did not go out at all next day, nor was there a single moment when Lindsay could find her alone, Sheappeared entirely taken up with away with her, de- to himself, with a cruel pang, that she was hiding some grief under her light wordsand her smiles. The day wore on. Dinner was a full hour earlier than usual, to give time for the theatri- cals to commence at half-past eight. Fay, who was to figure as a Greek princess, came down to dinner in costume, as did also the other ladies wko were to take part in the acting; and there was much laughter and merry-making during the repast. But there were two who sat among the care- lessly merry party that evening whose hearts were torn with anxiety—Lindsay’s, who opined that this time to-morrow he would know his fate; and Delia, who said to herself over and over again, “Oh, that it were over! How shall I bear it to the end?” Lord Lindsay was to know his fate still sooner than he had counted on, and the end for the un- happy and innocent Delia was to come earlier than she had dreamed. ‘¢ Now I hope we shallall cover ourselves with applause,” said Reginald, as they rose from table, ‘* Fay, do you feel like royalty in your royal robes?” “ay declared that she did, and that she should be most unwilling to descend to ordinary life again among ordinary mortals; and then went off in haste with her train of attendants, And now the rumble of wheels was heard, and the people invited for the performance be- gan to arrive. Delia stood by Mrs. Ashley’s side, and wel- comed them as they came in, and smiled at each one, and spoke a gay word, and showed her visitors where they should sit; and not one of them guessed that she earried a load of pain al- most too great for mortal to bear alone. At length all the expected guests had arrived; the actors were allready, the lamps were turned down to give a dim light—for the first scene was to be enacted in semi-darkness—and Delia could slip oy unobserved So, at least, she believed. Now was the mo- ment to admither brother James. There would be no other opportunity for that hurried look at his old home for which he so earnestly im- plored. She went softly and swiftly to the library the door of which stood open. A fire burned dim in the grate, but gave plenty of light for her'to open the window at which she had first found the fatal letter. All were so occupied with the theatricals that no one would discover, in all probability, either her own brief absence, or her brother’s hasty survey of the library. When the second act began she would return to the room and close the window. Yes; now was thetime! And with more con. fidence and calmness than she deemed possible, she went upon her errand. And Lord Lindsay, sitting there among the spectators, had likewise said to himself, ‘‘ Now is my tims!” With a heart bag painfully dominating over hope, he, too, lett throng silently. For an instant fear pre- the gay he paused ere he pursued Delia
Page 15
HAUNTED HEARTS. 15 —paused to recall a happier time, to give him courage to tell her of bis love; a time when she willingly lingered by his side, instead of avoid- ing him; a time when he could not help noting that a sweet and timid happiness stole over her enchanting face at his presence. What had changed this? Well, he was to know that very soon. So he told himself, as he passed down the cor- ridor leading to the library. She entered, Could anything be more pro- pitious to his wishes? ‘“‘ At last, I shall find her alone; at last, she will not, she cannot refuse me a moment to tell her of my affection!” “Delia!” Her sweet name was on his lips, as, treadin softly, he entered the dimly-lighted room. Bu the word died away unspoken, and he stood breathless, speechless with immeasurable woe, She had unbarred the shutter and turned the handle of the glass. door. ‘‘Now—now!” he heard her say; and then a man appeared within the apartment, Lord expel had not intended to act the spy; he had only obeyed the impulse of his love in pausing a moment ere he crossed the room, and astonishment had done the rest. The little scene passed so rapidly, the heaven-born hopes in Lindsay’s heart died out so instantaneously and so cruelly, that he had not the power to move before he knew all, All? No!—that he did notknow. What his eyes assured him of was that Delia—his Delia, whom he had worshiped, before whom his heart had bowed down as before a divinity—was meeting some one in secret. That must mean that this unknown lover (who but a lover could it be?) was unrecognized by her brother—by her friends, She was then, doubtless, about to make asecret marriage! He wasnothing to her any more! But he loved Delia too truly not to make an effort to save her. Stunned though he was by pain and grief, he retired as softly as he had entered; but it was inoue for him to rejoin the gay group he had left. Going to his room he rung for his servant, and gave directions that his things should be packed, as he had to leave for home suddenly. ‘There is a train a little before eleven o’clock which we must catch, Jones. Manage to get me a trap to take me to the station without in- terrupting the performance.” “Yes, my lord,” returned Jones, ievously disappointed to be called away from the Abbey, where so much merrymaking was going on, Lindsay sat down and wrote two hasty notes to Mrs. Ashley and to Reginald Larch, making his excuses and his adieux, and expressing his regret at being suddenly called away—well knowing that they would each infer that he had proposed to Delia, and been rejected by her. And then he wrote a letter of another kind, to Delia herself. It was this: “Forgive this earnest warning—this urgent ap- peal from one who loves you as disinterestedly as ever man loved woman, “Delia! I think you have guessed my love, and once I dared to hope that I could have won you for my own, And now, when that hope is gone, I * appeal to you by that love, which is stronger than my life, to pause—if you can yet pause—in the course which must lead to misery. Think, Delia, whether any honorable man would come steali into the house unweicomed by your brother an your friends! Your own sense of right will tell you it could not be! “Thad followed you to-night to the library with the determination to tell you in words what you must have divined long ago—that my heart was yours only, and forever; and then I saw that man whom you admitted. “Oh, Delia! has be bound you by some promise you fear to break? If so, let me take the place of an elder brother, and arrange matters for yo if they are capable of being arranged. Let this lover of yours come into the light of day; Borer. or a hum- we position, are not ineurinountad e obstacles to true ection. ““You see t plead no longer for myself; let that give Phen: courage to honor me with your confidence and I will be your negotiator with your brother an with Mrs, Ashley. For you are not happy, Delia; let me then—now as a friend alone—let me strive to or- der things so that you may become so. ‘*T implore you to let me aid you, or else to con- fide in your brother. Yours devotedly, * Linpsay DEANE.” Such was the letter he left behind, and then he rose and summoned his servant. As he de- scended the stairs bursts of laughter smote his ear. The actors were receiving rounds of ap- plause., Delia, leaning against the doorway, caught sight of him as he passed through the hall; but made as though she observed him not. And thus he left Larch Abbey, and the un- happy girl noted the noise of the wheels rolling from the door, and then dying away. CHAPTER VII. DELIA’S NEW GRIEF. THE guests were all gone; the applause was all over; the banquet which followed the theatricals had been crowded with guests, and Lord Lindsay’s absence was long unnoticed by any but Delia. And then Reginald’s regret at his friend’s sudden departure was freely ex- ressed; but Mrs. Ashley was silent about it, or she inferred that Delia’s rejection of his hand was the cause, But gayety and regrets were alike over for that evening; midnight had long since tolled, and Delia’s aching head and aching heart were in solitude, when there came a tap at her door, It was her maid, who reéntered with a note. ‘Oh, if you’ please, miss, Lord Lindsay de- sired this note to be given you to-night.” Delia’s pale face grew flushed with a rose tint as she received the letter. The door closed, she was again alone, and then she eagerly read Lindsay’s words. Let us not try to give an idea of the young irl’s trouble of heart. To be suspected by indsay of being in danger of making a secret marriage was almost too dreadful to be borne, She seized a pen, and wrote: **Larcn ABBEY, January —. “Dear Lonp Linpsay: ; “I should be without feeling if I did not assure you in the most solemn manner that the danger you fear for me, and from which you would guard me, does not exist, “Let me thank you for your kind bog Her at the same time express my sincere regret that you q
Page 16
16 HAUNTED HEARTS. should ever have suffered any unhappiness on my account; but as, unfortunately, this has been the case, we Re ag meet a By can do ne a merely ooting. ours sincerely, friendly 8 ; “ DELIA Larcn.”’ How cold the words, while her heart was lowing with love for him! And he suspected er, Delia Larch, of having a clandestine lover! Could Fate strike her a harder blow? She thought not; but she was mistaken. Fate and she had not fought out as yet their battle to- gether. When morning dawned she was wholly un- able to leave her bed; but that excited no com- ment, the lateness of the hour when she had re- tired after the theatricals being sufficient ex- cuse for her non-appearance at breakfast. And there she lay, hopeless, doing hothing— caring to do nothing. Buteven for Delia there was something which demanded action, as she remembered presently. She must post her letter to Lord Lindsay her- self; and she rose, and went out into the village, without telling —e one her errand, As she returned to the Abbey her misery seemed to press on her with new force; for Lindsay was gone, and though she was as much parted from him in reality yesterday as to-day, et it was sweet to see him, and to know that e loved her. And now he would learn to despise her! How could he accept her poor assurance that what he believed was without foundation? Sha had erere no explanation, and could offer none One sole and only consolation was left her— her great sacrifice had secured Reginald’s hap- piness. ‘Would time, as it rolled on, preserve this for her—this one last solace? Ah! she thought that this at least would be granted to her saddened heart! And as she thought thus, she entered her own unds, keeping well out of view of the house By striking along a sequestered walk in the shrubbery, for she dreaded meeting visitors in her present mood, Their guests were to leave the Abbey this af- ternoon; and it was well, thought Delia. Reginald, too, was leaving soon on a visit to Sir Crofton Earle, Fay’s uncle, who had adopted her, and with whom she lived. Reginald and Fay were to be married at Easter, which fell early this year, and the bride-elect had her trousseau to order and her bridal to arrange. Thus, for a short time, Delia would be alone with Mrs. Ashley; but they were both to go to London soon, as Delia had not yet been pre- sented at Court. The chill winter wind was scarcely felt by Delia as she took her way through the shrub- bery, for the cold at her own heart overpowered every other sensation. She had pound a moment in her restless walk, when familiar tones struck her ear—those of her brother Reginald. His back was toward Delia, and he stood in the most secluded nook of this retired part of the grounds, while— could she believe her senses?—he was completely absorbed in conver- sation with a very young girl (she looked barely fifteen), whose band he was holding in his own. Transfixed, Delia remained irresolute. Regi- nald—Reginald who was engaged to Fay—to conversing with this village girl in secret! But rhaps he could explain this meeting, only it id appear so like a secret one out here, where he so rarely came. Fay, too, was to leave the Abbey to-day, and usually he grudged every moment passed away from her; and now, just when she was leaving, he was here! Perhaps business had called him to the spot. But what business could he have with this village girl? ‘One thing I must impress on you. What- ever a ns, I must see you again, and to- night. , what agonies I shall suffer in the meantime!” Had she heard aright? Was this her brother Reginald saying this?—her brother, so trusted and loved by her! If there were no explana- tion of this dreadful thing, better that she should lay down her head and die, and not struggle any more. Reginald and the village girl still remained in earnest talk, but Delia heard nothing more; and as she stood bound, her young brother walked away slowly, the girl accompanying him, treading softly on the frozen grass, And thus the pair vanished from her si fit. It was nec that Delia should rouse her- self, for some of their visitors were to leave soon, Fay ss the number, and she must be there to say good-by to each. _ And then—then she would lose not a moment in seeking Reginald, and entreating him, by their mutual love for one another, to tell her the truth, _He owed it to Fay, to every principle of right, to carry on no underhand correspond- ence with a girl such as the one she had seen. Was it to be her dreadful fate to live to know a4 Lye er Keg rena — be ee a e e of approachin ite per- vaded the Abbey ad she reantered t. When she reached the drawing-room, Mrs. Ashley was standing near the fireplace with a disturbed countenance, and Fay was in tears, at one else a e the room. am so gla see you, my dear Delia!” began Mrs. Ashley, in a voice pr frre win “Do come and try to comfort Favoretta, and explain things to us,” ‘‘What things?” asked Delia, herself wonder- ing what had yg te nd Suaing o Fay, she said, ‘‘ What has troubled you, dear Fay?” **Oh!” exclaimed the young girl, trying hard not to seem too much overcome. “ Mrs. Ashley must not make you suppose that anything as- tonishing has occurred, or that there is a rea- son for conjecturing some disaster, because your brother writes to bid me and all of us ood-by, instead of seeing us himself. It seems, rom his note to me, that he has had to leave the Abbey suddenly for London on business, so he writes his adieux, as time and trains wait for nits Reginal ‘Is Reginald gone—to London, then?” stam- mered Dain a ‘ “Yes, so it seems,” replied Mrs. Ashley; while Fay, striving not to let her tears fall, was reading for the sixth or seventh time the few
Page 17
HAUNTED HEARTS. i? anes words which had been written by her over. How cold they read! : Was it fancy or hard reality? “DEAREST Fay: “T am very une tedly called to London, and must not lose a train, so I have to write my adieu instead of speaking it. You will know I shall let you hear from me at the earliest possible moment. “Yours ever, ReGrnaLtp LARCH. “Pp, §.—Entreat Mrs, Ashley to make all the ex- cuses necessary to our guests for me, 1 did not foresee this hurried journey.” And that was all. Yet she and he had parted—how fondly!— last night, her hand in his, and he had whis- pered a few words which thrilled her heart with joy. ‘“‘ All his deepest happiness had been born since he first saw her dear face,” he had said, in tones which to Fay had been as sweetest music. Their hands had been locked together; * To live without her now would be impossible!” Reginald had breathed, soft and low, as he left his kiss on her fair cheek. And this morning he had left her thus! The few lines read cold and chill to the warm- hearted and loving girl, whose future bliss was all bound up in him. Delia—who had so lately encountered her brother in the shrubbery—was altogether over- whe and sat down without saying another word. “Well, my dear,” resumed Mrs. Ashley, ‘‘I don’t know that there is any reason why you should be so much distressed about it. Reggy has not run away for good! But do you know anything of the cause of this sudden ab- sence?” “T? stammered Delia. ‘No; nothing!” “T thought it just possible that you might, my dear, considering that Lord Lindsay left us so suddenly. Oh, Delia, dear! I am_so truly grieved that you .cannot see Lord Lindsay’s worth, and his devotion for you.” “ But—but J did not send Lord Lindsa away! I did not tell him to leave the Abbey!” cried Delia, more distressed than before, ‘‘Perhaps not, in so many words, Delia; but we could all see how he felt. Is Reginald gone away on his account, my dear?’ “ Not that I know,” replied Delia, faintly. Her head swam with this new trouble. Reginald was gone, Where? Why? But he was not gone; he was hiding in the shrubbery in order to escape observation, and to avoid the good-by to Fay. ‘We need not all of us look as if we were go- ing to a funeral, Delia,” cried Fay, trying to laugh. “ Reginald will write as soon as he gets to town, I suppose, both to you and to me, Well, I had better prepare for my own depar- ture, and you are not to tell Reggy that we all sat round the fire and wept over his note.” “No, indeed!” cried Mrs. Ashley, brightening up, as she began to think that, after all, Regi- nald’s sudden absence would be satisfactorily lained. ‘ And oh, Delia! if you will think over matters, Iam sure you will not refuse to recall that nice Lord Lindsay. Never have I valued any young man so much!” ‘But, dear Mrs. Ashley, do not talk as if—as if I had refused him! He did not give me the on aoe and I am persuaded that he never will. ‘‘Because you have repelled him,” said the elder lady, with a sigh. Then other people came in, and Fay rose hastily, saying she must dress for her railway journey; and an hour afterward she took a tearful adieu of Delia, and the latter found her- self toward four o’clock that afternoon alone with Mrs. Ashley, the visitors gone. Reginald absent—the great rooms untenanted save by herself and that quiet old lady. CHAPTER VIII. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. WHat a hush in the storm which had raged about her so fiercely during the last few days! How terrible, too, was the Seeks peopled with the remembrance of all that had come to her! And what was yet to come? That she could not know, but threatening fears met her on every side. The seemingly interminable hours of that da went by at length, and morning brought wit it a short letter from Reginald. “T may be detained here a few days,” he wrote, **so that I shall hardly be able to get to Sir Crofton Earle’s so soon as I had hoped. Of course I shall write to Fay.” This was all, and Delia felt renewed uneasi- ness, A whole week rolled away; New Year’s Day dawned and waned, and others succeeded it, while Mrs. Ashley pottered about in the gar- den, and drove out, and fell asleep in her easy- chair after dinner, and went through her easy existence, without discovering that Delia was changed—changed from a happy, careless, blooming girl, to a saddened, restless, care- laden one, Delia had written. to Reginald at his club, but it was impossible to write all she had to urge; and she could only tell him how much she hoped that he would manage a speedy re- turn to the Abbey, as she had much to say to him of great import. Then came a tew more short lines from him, a hasty excuse for his absence, which really ex- plained nothing. The very next post brought something quite unexpected to Delia—a letter addressed to her- self, in that same bold writing which had been on the envelope she had first taken in at the library window. bie shrinking heart, Delia opened it and read; “Thave fongnt against troubling you, Delia, but I was seized with serious illness on coming to London, which I did almost immediately after our last sight of each other. I should not like tv die without a few last words. Will you not make some excuse to come to town, and grant the last prayer of a2%;” What could she doin answer to such an ap- peal? She must obey it; but how? Mrs. Ashley was the dearest of old ladies, and fain would Delia have had the comfort of re- | ferring to her in this sad perplexity; but, alas}
Page 18
Mrs. Ashley could not keep a secret, and to con- fide in her would have been to trust the whole of their intimate acquaintances with the fact of ‘James Larch’s existence, and the necessity he had subjected himself to of evading the law. Thus Delia saw herself forced to go on a false pretense. “‘T want to run up to London and see what Reggy is doing,” said she, inwardly trembling, as they parted for the night. ‘*To London!” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley, in much the same tone as she would have used if Le that Delia meditated a journey to Lap- an ‘*To see Reginald,” repeated Delia. *“Well, my dear, then I must make an effort to go! But at this time of year it certainly is not pleasant.” ‘Oh! I could not ask you to go,” the girl has- tened tosay. ‘‘My maid would escort me, and Reginald—” “Reginald would be at the other end to meet yout Lt might be managed in that way, cer- inly. “That is the way in which we will manage it,” said Delia, decidedly. ‘‘Good-night, dear rs. Ashley. I will be off by an early train to- morrow, then I shall get back sooner. So good- by, as well as good-night.” She spoke with concealed anxiety, for she did not intend to send Reginald a telegram to meet her at the other end of her journey. She would see him, truly, but not till she had first seen her other brother, James, whose bones were supposed to lie whitening on a North American prairie. But now Delia experienced an embarrassment she had never felt before. She had no means for her journey and that of her maid, for she had given all her money to her elder brother, and to borrow of Mrs. Ashley would give rise to innumerable questions, She solved the immediate difficulty by bor- rowing of her maid, on some excuse, and in the cold fog and frostiness of an early morning in January, they started. By nine o’clock they were well on their way to London; by eleven o’clock the shrinking girl and her attendant were at Victoria Station. “Now, Marston, I want you to go on to our town-house, and wait for me. I will go to my brother alone,” “* Alone, miss! But what would Mrs. Ashley say?” cried the maid, thunderstruck. ‘I know that I must tell her afterward, Marston, but at present it is best to manage as I arrange. Besides, what possible harm can happen to meinacab? Am I not going to see my own brother?” ‘To be sure, miss,” said Marston, who did not quite go the length of accusing Miss Larch of being about to visit a sweetheart. . So far, then, Delia’s way was smooth—all ex- cept the awkward part of having no money with which to repay what she had Sechopeal of her maid when they returned to the Abbey. Reginald and Mrs. Ashley had both known that she possessed fifty pounds untouched a few days previously; they had each laughed at her careful and thrifty habits of always having cash at command, and paying ready money for her HAUNTED HEARTS. Ee personal expenses. How then was she to ac- count for her peer pore: which sooner or later must leak out? For she had promised to give fifteen pounds to a poor family in the neighborhood of the Abbey, who had suffered great loss from fire, but that subscription she was now powerless to pay. With these uncomfortable reflections in her mind, the rumbling cab brought her in Jess than half-an-hour to a quiet, somewhat poor, side spoke A in Pimlico, where her brother James ged, An untidy maid-servant answered her sum- mons, and Delia was as much surprised to be- hold such a person as the maid was at seeing so elegant a Young lady as Miss Larch standing there inquiring for the gentleman, Mr. Roberts, who had lately come to live there. ‘‘ There ain’t no one come here lately, miss; the gent as is here now has stayed on an’ on for six year an’more. A stout party; old he is, but his name isn’t Roberts—’tis Thomas.” ** Are you sure?” asked Delia. ‘La, yes, miss! ’Tisn’t like I shouldn’t know, for I’ve been here five year. I’m eighteen to- morrow, an’ I came when I was thirteen.” ‘Is Mr. Thomas ill?” inquired Delia, think- ing that there was some mistake. “*Tll?_ No; he’s as well as you or me and that stout! There, miss, if you want a sight—” But Delia had heard enough. She had come to the wrong address, that was plain; but she pie come to the address given in her brother’s etter. “What shall I do now?” asked she of the roughservant girl. ‘*I came to London to see a sick friend; he may be dying. Surely this is Connington street, Pimlico?” ‘** Sure enough it is, miss, No. 117. No; you’ve made no kg ey Try at 17, and at 27, and 7%, and see if you don’t find the party you wants there. °Tis the number you want, not the street.” And so Delia, in haste and trepidation (she had dismissed the cab), went to No. 27, and then to No, 17, and on to No.7. But with no success. Mr. Roberts was not a lodger at any of those places. She now determined to summon courage and knock at every house in Conningtan street till she came to the right one, and had twice made her weary inquiry, when an exclamation from a voice, which thrilled and terrified her at. once, made her look round to meet the questioning eyes and sad face of Lord Lindsay Deane. : ‘** Miss Larch! Delia! You here, alone?” he exclaimed. ‘* Were you going anywhere near? Can I aid you?” ‘No, thank you,” replied Delia, trembling. ‘Tam in great haste, Lord Lindsay, and must hurry on.” | “*How can I leave you here, unless your bro- ther is with you, or some friend? Is it possible that Mrs. Ashley permitted you to come to town alone?” “‘My maid escorted me, and Reginald is in bec I made the journey to see my bro- ner, ‘But he is not with eek I have just met him, and fear, from the hasty manner in which he left me, that he isin some anxiety.”
Page 19
‘Indeed! But I must not delay. Excuse me, Lord Lindsay, but I must go on,” “Delia,” sail he, ‘I will not leave you in this out-of-the-v ay street unless with some responsi- ble escort.” “Do I understand you to threaten to watch my actions, Lord Lindsay?” cried Delia, com- pletely dismayed. : ‘‘T have not threatened anything, but I will watch over your safety while you are here alone.” ‘*Oh, Heaven!” she cried, bursting into tears; ‘‘and timeis flying! Lord Lindsay, you do not understand the importance to me, and to a dying person, of every moment that is now passing away.” ‘*Delia, you know my devotion to you. I will be as one blind or deaf. I will remain tongue-tied as to this interview, if you will per- mit me to be yourescort, Thatisalllask, Is it too much? ‘* And is it too much to ask, on my part, that you leave me free—unfettered? Cannot you in- fer from what I have told you, that I came here on a charitable errand, to see a dying person? By prolonging this interview you are torturing me. ‘You force me to leave De But I will re- main there at the corner of the street till you return, Remember, if you need a friend’s help, there I am!” “Lord Lindsay, you must not watch my ac- tions. As I have already told you, I came here to see a dying person.” ‘*Whom she loves!” he thought within him- self. But, aloud, he said, ‘‘Go! I will not fol- low you!” Then he walked some distance away, and she continued her search, At last, at No. 11, which she did not reach until she had gone the weary length of one side of the street, she learnt that a Mr. Roberts did lodge there, f wiine he is very ill?’ asked Delia, now half ainting. “Wall, miss, he has been bad; but, to-day, bad as he’s been, he said he must get up and go out, And out he did go, nigh on eleven o’clock.” “Gone out!” echoed Delia. “I supposed him dying! Ihave come a long journey on purpose to see im, and now you tell me he is gone out!’ “That he is, miss, and no mistake! And when he’ll be back is more’n I know. You'd best step in.” ‘“‘T cannot wait,” said Delia, feeling some in- dignation at her brother’s thoughtlessness. e could not be so very illif he could rise and go out! And to what pain and suspicion had he not exposed her! ‘“‘Will you say, please, that a young lady came to see him—a lady named Delia; and that she had had such great trouble in coming she would not be able to call again, but that she was glad to find him better.” “Ta, yes, miss. He’ll be sorry to have missed you, I'll be bound, but he gaid as he must go out.” With that, Delia walked away, and Lord Lindsay met her as she neared the corner of the street. HAUNTED HEARTS. 19 *T did not once look round. I know nothing oe ry you have been, Delia,” said he, ten- erly “And i,” she said, faintly, “I did not find the person ] came to see, and whom I believed to be dying. Lord Lindsay, from my heart I am sorry not to be able to tell you more. Are we not bound to guard another’s secrets?” ‘‘Sometimes,” he answered. ‘‘ At any rate, I will guard this secret of yours. But what is this? You are overcome with fatigue, or with what you havesuffered! Let me get you a cab. Oh, that I am to lose sight of you like this! Delia, it will break my heart!” “And mine!” escaped her lips, as if against her will. “What doT hear? Oh, my own darling, did you tell me that our separation gave you pain —that it would break your heart also?” **T said—I said that what I suffered would kill me,” replied she, covered with confusion, and now only anxious to leave him. But he held fast her hand. “Delia, you cannot leave me till I know from your own lips what those two words meant. I see that you are unhappy; I have known it these few last dreadful days. But now I must be assured whether in what you suffer, any particle of that pain is caused by your separation from me. If so, never, never will I give u hope—never will I renounce you, Delia!” said he, passionately. “Lord Lindsay,” she faltered, “I entreat you to let me leave ve now! It must be suf- ficient for you to know that I could never, never, at any time—” She paused. “Could never return my affection?’ breathed he, in passionate, despairing tones, Delia was silent. How could she tell this man he was nothing to her, when her heart danced to a joyous music, saddened as she was, ~ by the remembrance that he loved her? ‘You are silent, Delia,” he repeated. ‘“‘T must leave you,” she said, in helpless misery. ¢ You shall. But, dearest, I will not be slow in following you to the AbLey to ask you the question there.” “Oh, no, no!” she faltered, ‘There, too, and always, I must tell you the same thing— that we are separated!” Lord Lindsay hailed a cab, put her into it, then following her, he bent and imprinted a fer- vent kiss on the hand he clasped fer a racnyent. And then he left her; and the cab which bore Delia away from his longing eyes a mcment afterward, carried a despairing girl. Was she not in reality bound by as heavy a chain as beforet Was she one whit more free to accept Lindsay’s love? Would she ever be— ever at any time? Oh, no; for nothing could undo the fact that her brother James had committed forgery, and perhaps taken a man’s life! That fact must re- main a wall of adamant between her and Lind- say, even though her erring brother slept in ever so deep a grave. But yet, as the cab took her away from Lindsay’s dear presence, a ray | of consolation struck across her misery—a line t TE ar ine
Page 20
20 HAUNTED HEARTS. Anan of golden glory on the dark sea of her hopeless- ness. Lindsay had repeated that he loved her, Would she ever forget that? CHAPTER IX. THE NEWS WHICH AWAITED DELIA. ‘‘T rainK I have had my journey for noth- ing,” said Delia, as, at length, her cab drew up at the town mansion, where her maid awaited her. ‘‘My brother was not to be found at his club. I made the cabman inquire for him.” ‘** And he has not been here, ma’am; and you look so tired. Mrs. Mathews has got you some luncheon, ma’am, and some tea. If you are re- turning to the Abbe by the half-past three o'clock train, we shail not have much time to spare. Delia shivered by the blazing fire in the dis- used breakfast-room—shivered more even from excitement than from exhaustion. The outside world looked indescribably gloomy, for dark- ness was not far off that January dav, and fog hung in the air and brooded over the city. But despite the fog, and gloom, and her in- tense fatigue, the image of Lord Lindsay, his words and looks, recurred to support her. Soon after, Delia and her maid drove off for Victoria Station, whence, some time before six o’clock, they neared Larch Abbey again. “Mr. Larch may _ ve returned before us, miss,” said the maid, cheerily, as the train stopped. “I sh wuldn’t wonder now if he was here to meet you, miss,” Delia scanned the platform eagerly, and her out; but no tall, vouthful form, with ghing eyes and joyful looks, met her gaze. She was only answered by the gloom and mourn- fulness of night. A carriage had been sent to take her home; and Delia hoped that when she arrived, Mrs. Ashley would neither be too curious as to the manner in which she had spent her hours in London, nor too close in her questioning. But she soon found that she would have nothing formidable in that way to encounter, Mrs. Ashley was in tears, and the greatest dis- tress. ‘*Oh, my dear, I do not know how to tell you what has happened! I cannot find the words! It is too dreadful!” And then came another burst of tears, ‘* Pray, do tell me, dear Mrs. Ashley—tell me at once, for suspense is hard to bear!’ ‘Tt is about poor Fay!” wept Mrs. Ashley. “Ts he ill?” cried Delia, in alarm. ‘No, r dear girl; unless she is ill from wretchedness! And only this morning I had a letter from her, telling me that Lady Catherine Barnes had promise to be her sixth bridemaid; and then this blow falls!” “Dear Mrs. Ashley, what is it?” implored Delia, sinking down at the old lady’s feet, and seizing her hands. “T don’t know what Sir Crofton Earle will say; but you have been told what a furious temper he has, I shouldn’t wonder if he took lega ery Delia.” ‘Oh, tell me!” cried Delia, again—‘ tell me at once!” ‘¢ Well, my dear, I have as good as told you, now, and you must see tliat 1 wished to prepare you for the sad truth. 1 don’t understand what is done in such cases about wedding presents; but I am sure the pearl ear-drops Fay had from old Mrs. Vane must have cost three hundred pounds, at least. But what is loins them, or anything else, compared to losing her happi- ness? Your brother Reginald has jilted her, my dear!” ‘“*Tt is not possible!” broke from Delia’s lips. ‘“‘There is her letter, and Reginald’s, Both came by the afternoon post. Read them, and see if there is any hope. Delia sunk down on the nearest chair, over- come with this new trouble. aha to jilt Fay! It did not seem pos- sible. She first opened poor Fay’s letter, and read: “Drarest Devra: I must call you so, for we were to have been sisters so soon! I am nearly blinded with tears as [ write this. Reginald has sent me sucha cruel letter! Yes, cruel; though in it he tells me he shall die with my image in his heart. He says, Delia, that he shall never marry; that it has become his duty to live and die a lonely man; that Mount’s Castle and nearly all he possesses is mine by right, but that we two must live and die apart, ** How can he writesuch cruel wordsto me? How have 1 deserved them, Delia? My heart is broken, You can speak where Jcannot. What would be to me a hundred castles without his love? His love!— if I have lost it, Delia, I must live without it—or ie! **Oh, Delia! you are with him. You can question him. Icannot. He says that we are not to meet again. And I can only acquiesce in such a hard de- cision, Will you write to me, then? Will you find out for me what it is which has estranged him from me in these few short days? Ah! my heart misgave me when I left Larch Abbey, and he sent me that short, cold note of adieu. “1 know it is the fashion for girls to hide their feelings, and to be as ready to renounce a lover as he may be to forget them; but, Delia, we were affi- anced, and I, at least, cannot resign my life’s happi- ness without asking why it is wrested from me. You are my only hope, then, Delia, and I think you will not fail, Your heart-broken “Fay Ear.e.” ‘* And here is Reginald’s letter, my dear,” said Mrs. Ashley, beginning to weep anew, and watching Delia’s pale face as she read: Reginala’s letter ran thus: “My Drar Mrs. Asutey: A great sorrow has blighted my life, a sorrow which [ cannot explain. I no longer look forward to a happy marriage with Fay, and have written to tell her so. “It is not possible, in my present frame of mind, that Ishould come back to the at save for one or two days; but I find that I cannot leave England for a lengthened period without a business interview with the steward, and settling some things which hitherto I have arranged for Delia since her guardian's death. “ During this time, I must not be questioned. I can explain nothing, and only useless pain to us all could result from questions concerning my motives +. is yoesaa off my engagement to Fay and going abroad. ** You will forgive me, I hope, for writing abrupt- ly, for I feel acutely the change in my so recent appy prospects. “Give my sister the inclosed note. She will grieve, I fear, for this sudden alteration in our plans, lam ever, dear Mrs, Ashley “Yours affectionately, * REGINALD
Page 21
HAUNTED HEARTS. ‘He is in great haste to fly from us all, my dear; but something ought to be done to pre- vent the ruin of the happiness of two lives. Don’t you think so?” : “‘Oh, that we could see what to do!” gasped Delia. “There is still his letter to you to read, Delia.” Tt was as follows: “My Dear Det: I write to you at a solemn mo- ment of my life—at an hour when everything like happiness is wrenched from me, Therefore, I think you will consent to give consideration to my words. Lately I have fancied that you and Lindsay Deane were drifting apart. Do not let any idle fancy or girlish readiness to be exacting make you foolish enough to slight his love. He is a good fellow, and you will not now have me to watch over you. “Oh, Delia! it is a cru] blow which has struck me, all the more so because J could neither foresee nor ward it off. ‘“We shall meet only to separate; they will have told you that. Do not make our parting more bitter than it must be by useless entreaties. “ Your ever-loving brother, ‘* REGINALD.” su nee k “88, that I shall, my dear; and be so un- easy. oy Well, then, he advises me to accept Lord Lindsay Deane,” added Delia, with a vivid blush; “but as I cannot accept him, we will say no more about it.” ; lure. Ashley, however, did say a great deal more about it; for great was her desire to see Delia Lady Lindsay Deane. — ; ? “T do not see what there is to be done in this sad business—do you, Delia? Shall we send for Lord Lindsay to speak to Reginald when he ar- rives? He might listen to him.” “‘Tmpossible! Ob, no, no, dear Mrs, Ashley!” cried Delia, ‘‘ Wait; let me think a moment! 1 want to think!” Delia rose from her chair restlessly, and as she paced about the room, was debating whe- ther she should send a telegram to her aunt, Lady Wood, now in the south of France, to ac- quaint her with the state of things, and beg her to return home at once; for Reginald had de- clared he would answer no questions; but this aunt had much influence with him, and he gave her all the affection of a son. “Let us sendatelegram to aunt Wood. He may listen to her!” cried Delia, stopping in her hurried walk. “The very thing, my dear! Oh, what com- fort the thought bas given me! Tell her she must come straight to the Abbey, and travel almost without a reak.” 5 ‘‘She will have time to get here, for Reginald writes as if he should not arrive for a day or two, and he will be detained here another two days, he says. as rin comforted he bi pci a Re tele- rs. Ashley prepared to eat her dinner, ST ine task all ould yet be well, ut Delia could take rest only because exhaustion 21 laid on her its heavy hand, and no dreams of a sunny future for her or for Reginald visited her heavy slumbers that bitter night. CHAPTER X. DELIA HAS TO ANSWER SOME DIFFICULT QUES- TIONS. Tue next twenty-four hours had not run their course when Reginald arrived at the Abbey. He came’ in unannounced, greeting his sister and Mrs. Ashley in his usual manner. But his features seemed cut in stone, and nosmile broke across them; nor did any ray of gladness shine from eyes that were once all mirth and bright- ness, Delia and Mrs. Ashley kissed him in silence, each mee 5 ak calculate how far on her way to the Abbey Lady Wood might be, The short sentences exchanged between the ate ladies and Reginald were constrained and ew. “Had youa cold journey, Reginald?” asked Mrs. Ashley. ‘*T think so; I did not observe,” replied he. Delia could not venture on a remark, for her voice was choked with tears. Reginald sat down, and hastily opened some letters awaiting bim; then rose, and left the room, merely asking if dinner could be deferred till eight o’clock. ‘*Oh, Delia, [ am more concerned than ever now that I have seen him!” cried Mrs, Ashley, as the door closed behind him. So was Delia. But with the evening letters had arrived an. unwelcome one for her. She a recognized the handwriting of her brother ames, “Tt is not bpm to tell you, Delia,” wrote he, “how much I feel your kindness in coming to see me; and you may rest assured that no common oc- ° currence forced me to be absent when you arrived. Tll as I was, 1 had to leave my sick-bed that morn- ing, for, Delia, I may have to fly from England, and ee ‘In this case, I must see you once more, as there is yet something to confide to you, of which you are at present ignorant, But I could not ask you to run the risk of another journey to London. I will come (it will be for the last time) to the library win- dow, and I must not venture so close as early in the evening as before. “When I last wrote to you, I believed myself dy- ing; but my partial recovery was as rapid as my at- eaters we meet I will explain fully ‘and clearly. “If Lhave to leave England at once, can you be prepared to advance funds for that purpose? I shall want at least a bundred ponnds—it should be more; and how many thousands a year has my bro- ther Reginald !—how many thousands will you ive? while I, the heir to all—I have to petition for a pit- tance! But do not think I say this to reproach you my good, my dear sister! I reproach myself; but would it be in human nature not to feel bitterly ? “Yours, most unhappy, Larcu.” This further communication sorely embar- rassed Delia. To have forthcoming a hundred pounds at a moment’s notice was well-nigh im- possible to her; besides which, she owed her maid five pounds, and every day expected to be asked nae the fifteen guineas which in a hap- pier time she had promised to the family whose cottage had been burned, A
Page 22
It i§ true she had much valuable jewelry ; but if she disposed of that, she would inevitably be questioned at a future time, How should she answer such questions? But yet it was true that there were.thousands spent at Larch Abbey which would have belonged of right to him who now petitioned for a hundred! The receipt of this letter by no means tended to calm her ——s as she went down-stairs to meet Reginald; and even he, absorbed as he — in his own griefs, exclaimed, at the sight of her: ““You are not well, Delia, or else you are very unhappy!” said he. “*T am not very happy, but never mind that,” replied she, turning away from his scrutiny. ginald said no more, attributing ber altered looks to sorrow for his sudden departure, and still more to some coldness or misunderstanding with Lord Lindsay. ‘*Don’t throw away your happiness, Delia,” said he, gloomily. No,” she answered, in low accents of deep feeling; ‘‘ but happiness may be torn from us.” ‘That is true, indeed!’’ said he, bitterly, and then was silent. Delia had hoped be would connect what she had said with the sorrow she must feel at bis severance from Fay, and his sudden mysterious leave-taking. Indirectly she must entreat him, if in no other manner. The dinner was heavy beyond endurance, Reginald ate nothing, and when he uttered a few words, forgot sometimes to finish his sen- tence. Toward the conclusion of the meal, when the servants had withdrawn, he addressed Delia suddenly: ‘“We must not forget those poor Johnstones, who were burnt out. How much did you say you would give them, Delia? That must be done at once.” “‘T said I would give fifteen guineas,” faltered Delia, a troubled flush mounting to her brow. ‘* Will you let them go with my subscription, and give them to me to-night?” Delia’s confusion increased. ‘‘Suppose you get the money as soon as you go up-stairs?” continued Reginald, gloomily. Then, as still she did not reply, he looked at his sister. Her distress was evident. “Reginald, I have not the money; I want some very badly just now,” stammered she, ‘““Want some!” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley. “Why, my dear, you had fifty pounds a fort- night ago, and you are always so careful!” ‘ Yes, yes—but,” said Delia, ‘‘ I have spent it.” * How?” asked Reginald, ee a “T_T gave it away,” said Delia, still more confused than before. ‘‘And to whom?” questioned her brother sternly, with the pe that some one had been getting a large sum from his inexperienced sister, and that he must put her on her guard. “*T gave it in charity,” said Delia, trembling. “Indiscriminate charity creates paupers, I have heard it said,” remarked Mrs. Ashley in the pause which followed. ° ‘“Who has been imposing on you, Delia?” asked Reginald, with a weary sigh. "J gave it willingly, and feel that I did right HAUNTED HEARTS. In doing so; but, Heginald, when L went to London to see you yesterday, I had no money, and it was so embarrassing! I had to borrow five pounds of Marston.” ‘‘And 7ou owe these fifteen guineas to the Johnstones, because you promised them the money?” _ es,” said Delia, feeling very uncomfort- able. * Well, Delia, you will get into trouble—and serious trouble—if you spend beforehand what you have made yourself liable for, and borrow for exigencies. If you go upon that principle, “apa, get into difficulties, heiress as you ‘*T hope I can have some money now, Re because I really do want it. Can you pr have two hundred pounds?” asked she, “Two hundred! Why?” questioned Regi- nald, who felt sure that the money was not to be spent on herself. ‘** Yes, please; I want as much as two hun- dred.” “ Delia, you shall have it, if you will tell me how you spent the fifty pounds.” Tell him that ? y, that would be to tell him all! *‘Tecannot. Ihave promised not. charity,” faltered Delia. “Well, then, Delia, for your sake, I refuse. I am sure some one is imposing on your generosity, and I will stop it at once. Of course it is right that you should give; but to be bound not to tell your nearest relatives how you di of your money is not right. You are only eighteen, Delia, and three hundred a-year ought to be enough for your present wants, when those wants mean merely dress and small charities. ow are you to manage the cute wee this large estate entaits if you cannot 4 within bounds on three hun- dred a-year, when all your needful expenses are paid?” “It is painful to me not to tell you, Reggy; but I have promised to be silent, and I cannot —I ought not to speak of this gift. You your- ~ would say that I ought not to do so,” cried she, ‘‘Perhaps you have been mado to think so. However, let us say no more about it, Delia. I confess that it has made me rather anxious.” ** And now, pray, let me bave the two hun- dred pounds,” urged Delia, with tears in her eyes. Mo It must be one hundred,” said Reginald, de- cisively. ‘* That will surely allow a.comforta- ble margin, even when you have paid the twen- y pounds owing to your maid and to the ohnstones.” ‘*No, it will not do what I want, indeed,” eried Delia, who asked herself how she should find the hundred pounds needed by that un- known brother; who might ask for it even by to-morrow’s post. But Reginald was inflexible. Moreover, Delia’s unusual persistency, and her deep disap- intment at his refusal of the money, gave iman uneasy feeling. Mrs. mrt too, was as much surprised as Reginald; but she forbore to add her remarksto Delia’s distress, It was in
Page 23
HAUNTED HEARTS. 23 ** Since I cannot get the money, I must let my jewels go,” asolek Delia. “‘I shall be sus- pected, and I cannot explain.” _ ‘ They rose from table, and Reginald did not follow them into the drawing-room. When ten o’clock struck, a footman brought in a note to Mrs. Ashley. That kind old lady read with some satisfaction these lines from Reginald: oF forges to tell you that Lindsay Deane will be here to dine and sleep to-morrow evening. He met me, and asked to come, Better not tell Delia.” Mrs. Ashley made no comment on the note and soon afterward Delia said ‘“ @ood-night,” and left the room. CHAPTER XI. THE CLIMAX. ‘How ill Reggy is!” smote through Delia’s heart, as she met her brother at the morning meal. ‘Daylight showed, even more clearly than had the previous night, his haggard looks; and he was thus ome in a few short days. What, then, would a few months do? As this thought pressed on the young girl, Reginald was taking a long and furtive gaze at his sister. She was not wont to look as she did this morn Ks he noted this, he observed that a pain- ful expression crossed her face as she took up a letter awaiting her—a letter which she hastened to put into her pocket, unread. “Tf she accepts Lindsay, she will be in his keeping, and I need not be anxious. If not, 1 must question her,” he decided. ‘*T shall be occupied all day,” he remarked to Mrs. Ashley. ‘‘ But I will see you and Delia at dinner. I shall probably leave by the night train to-morrow. ‘To-morrow! And suppose Lady Wood did not arrive till he was gone! That was the thought in the hearts of both ladies as they looked silently at each other, while Reginald left the room. ‘* My one hope is that she will come in time,” said Mrs. Ashley, breaking silence. *¢ And mine,” added Delia. And then she slipped away to read that ietter which lay concealed—a source of infinite anx- iety—in her pocket. That anxiety was by no means allayed as she and trouble you no more, forever. pat @ must not meet at the same hour as before; but come to the same place—the library window— soon after the household have retired to rest. “Two moments will end our interview; and ever should you be heard in remounting the stairs, how easily could you account for your presence in the library! It would be only to carry a book with you, and to say that you could not sleep. “T shall count on you, then—to-morrow, soon after midnight. Your ever unhappy sare aed 4 Shaken as she had been, the idea of meeting him alone, so late, was intensely terrifying to Delia, and nothing would have made her con- sent but the belief which had taken possession of her that he had in some way been traced, and must fly, and had not the means to do so, But the money! Delia was desperate. She collected most of her valuable bracelets. a jeweled pendant, earrings, and a diamond locket, and putting them intoa small basket. locked them in one of her drawers, ready for transport. The day wore on. Contrary to the expectation of Delia and Mrs. Ashley, Reginald came into the drawing- room toward five o’clock and asked for some tea. Just then a ring at the hall door announced a visitor. ‘* Lindsay Deane, I suppose,” remarked Regi- nald, carelessly. ‘‘ Did I tell you, Delia, that he begged to come here to see me to-night?” “No,” said she, faintly. But it was not Lindsay Deane who entered. It was the secretly longed-for aunt, Lady Wood. ‘Is it you, aunt? I did not think you in- tended returning before the spring!” exclaimed Reginald, in astonishment. ‘I altered my plans lately, my dear boy,” said she, kissing him affectionately, and taking no apparent notice either of bis altered looks or of Delia’s. ‘‘ Oh, how nice to be here, after my . cold, long journey! You expect another visitor, limagine; for a fly was rumbling after mine all up the drive.” ‘Lord Lindsay Deane!” said Mrs. Ashley. Yes, it was he, indeed; and Delia changed color more than once as he took her hand in greeting. Thanks to these arrivals, the dinner to-night was not quite so dreary as on the day before, though even now Reginald was almost silent, and Delia too wretched to do more than ga through the meal in dumb show. ‘*Shall you speak to Reginald to-night? cried Mrs. Ashley, the moment she was alone with Lad Wood. : ‘Yes; to-night! But say nothing about it, not even to Delia.” It was late when they left the dining-room; for Lady Wood had talked on about the South of France, and Lord Lindsay had kept up the conversation; sO that no stranger would have suspected that under the assumed ease, the hearts of all gathered around the dinner-table were torn with sharp anxiety. How deep, in Delia’s case, could not be esti- mated; and, surely, Reginald’s must be as heavy as hers, to make him thus leave his prom- ised bride, and all the joys which youth and wealth offered him, Delia retired early. She wished to do nothing to encourage Lind-
Page 24
say’s suit; while, on his side, he as steadfastly resolved to speak to her the moment she left the breakfast-room next morning. By midnight, deep silence reigned throughout the Abbey. It was very still for a winter night; not even the moaning and sighing of the wind broke the quiet, The en elia, pale as the whitest flower in her own beautiful conservatory, took up the basket laden with trinkets, and with noiseless footfall proceeded along the carpeted corridors, and down the wide staircase. She gained the library door. Another ten minutes, and her ordeal would be over, and she would breathe again. Now she caught her breath at each instant, trembling as she went. But here she was at the door, a door which rolled back softly on its hinges, and made no sound to affright the terrified intruder. If the window would open as softly, surely no one would be disturbed—no one! There were other watchers besides Delia that night in the old Abbey, for Mrs. Ashley and Lady Wood held anxious converse together, waiting till Reginald should leave Lindsay Deane. The two young men were still talking in a room below, for sleep was far from either of them, and Lindsay had much tosay, _ “T must be ready to waylay him,” said Lady Wood, listening above for the sound of the opening door. ; To her amazement, she saw Delia appear at the head of the staircase—Delia, who hesitated, as if in dread, and then crept tremblingly down-stairs, Something in the girl’s aspect made both Lady Wood and Mrs, Ashley instantaneously decide to follow, and they went after her swiftly, with cautious tread, ‘ Delia alone carried a taper, a little star of light amid the surrounding darkness. She went to the door of the library, set down her precious basket with intense care, in order to avoid mak- ing any noise, and opened the great door; but not batons Lady Wood, who had got near her and was then standing in a little recess, had caught plain view of what Delia carried—a number of jewel cases. Could she mean flight? ’ Lady Wood trembled almost as much as Delia as the latter opened the door. | “Bring Reginald!” she whispered to Mrs, Ashley, when Delia had closed the door and vanished. ’ Lord Litidsay and the unhappy Reginald were ¢.anding on the hearth-rug in the smok- ing-room, when their conference was suddenly broken in upon by the appearance of the frightened Mrs. Ashley, who was impressed by the necessity of giving Delia no alarm, and yet that their action should DA DEDES. eA ‘¢*Come!—come!” she whispered; ‘‘ Delia is in danger!” And that was all she said. But it was enough. They noiselessly fol- lowed the agitated Mrs. Ashley to the library door. Meantime, Lady Wood had turned the handle ever so softly, and was listening intently, De- HAUNTED HEARTS. lia was at the long window which gave egress to the gardens. Now she was opening the shutter, as carefully as if life itself depended on it; but despite her greatest effort to unbar the fastening without noise, her fingers trembled too much to compass that entirely; and under cover of the slight disturbance caused by the opening of the shutter Lady Wood herself (shrouded in the darkness) passed quite into the room, and Lindsay Deane was quick to take up his station next her. Delia had set down the wax taper she car- ried on the chimney-piece, far from the win- dow, lest the aD} wind should extinguish it, and the feeble light it diffused through the lofty room was only sufficient to show the movements of the agitated girl; the further end of the apartment, and all the sides and corners, were in deepest gloom. One terrible thought assailed the four watch- ers—Delia was about to fly with some stranger! Her changed looks, her manifest unhappiness, were too sadly accounted for now. But each said the same thing in the silent recesses of the heart—‘t We will save her!” Hush! hush! The night wind rushes in as the long glass window yields to Delia’s efforts ind a man steps into the room, res he is altered even from the man he was when he first came to that same window, bearing with him the wreck of a young life’s happiness. ‘* Delia,” he whisper oarse accents, ‘here is the paper which will tell you where to send all future sums of money.” “And here,” gasved Delia, half-dead with ‘ear, “‘here are these jewels, in place of the 1undred pounds. I tried hard, but Reginald refused me the money. These are worth many hundred—take them—I can do no more!” **Oh, Delia! how shall I change them for money without risk? But thanks—thanks, De- lia! Now swear to me that you will continue to my child the allowance you will secure to me the moment you are of age—swear it, and I will go and leave you in peace!” Who was this man who exacted such a prom- se from the guarded heiress of Larch Abbey? Who was this who addressed her as Delia—for whom she was ready to dare and to sacrifice so much? He looked almost old enough to be her father. Who could he be? These questionings ran swiftly through the minds of Lady Wood, of Mrs. Ashley and of Lord Lindsay ae mine but the mind of ginald was tossed on a strange, wild sea of doubt. He thought he guessed who this man was; and yet —and yet he had been told a deceitful tale if his surmises were true! Delia’s trembling lips gave the required prom- ise. “Now I shall leave you forever! Think sometimes of your wretched, exiled brother, Oh! if my father could see me now, here in the old place, which 1 have only dared to enter in eel, from whence I go out a lonely, banished man ‘“* Hush!—you will be discovered! Was that a noise?” panted Delia. ; ‘“No, no! There is only the night-wind to witness the last parting between an only sister and @ brother supposed to have been eight
Page 25
HAUNTED HEARTS. 26 years in his lonely grave. Let Reginald die without the knowledge that Iam alive, I charge you, Delia! Now I am gone!” But, as he turned to go, a woman stood be- tween him and the way of exit, while Lord Lindsay (for Reginald seemed ae uick- ly seized the intruder, who, struck dumb by this unexpected presence of witnesses, was powerless. As for Delia, she uttered one faint | exclamation, and sunk upon # chair. “ And now may I ask you, sir,” exclaimed Lady Wood, towering in fine scorn before the man, “‘may I ask you who I am? I aave heard, we have all heard, whom you profess to be— Mr. James Larch, who died many . years since. The man was speechless, “Who am I, sir?’ repeated Lady Wood, in | severe tones. “Aunt,” said Reginald, hoarsely, ‘*he—he has proved to me who he is—my brother James! But he has cruelly deceived me. He urged me not to let Delia know of his existence, that he might not blight her happiness.” “Oh, that was what he impressed on me with regard to you, dear Reggy,” exclaimed Delia. ‘* Dear aunt! Mrs. Ashley! Cord Lind- say! be silent about this secret which you. have surprised, for this man is my brother, though he dares not openly avow it, for—for he has of- fended against the law!” ‘J must express my astonishment,” continued Lady Wood, with the same scorn as before, ‘that Mr. James Larch should not remember his old aunt Julia! Surely, sir, you can recall the name of Featherly? If you are James Larch, you will remember Featherly Hall, and our cousins and myself, who welcomed you inave so often.” “‘Oh, aunt Julia, I Jo—I do remember!” ex- claimed the intruder. ‘‘ But nineteen years is along time. I may be pardoned a momentary forgetfulness.” “That is true,”she answered. ‘“{f you re- member theold times, you havea better chance of making me believe your identity. Are you in trouble, then? Butt ama woman of expe- dients. I will keep you safe at Featherly Hall. My nephew James shall be safe as long as I live to protect him.” “ Aunt Julia, you are too good to me!” mur- mured the man, of whom Lindsay now relaxed his hold. But neither the latter, nor Reginald, nor Mrs. Ashley, nor Delia, had ever heard of a Feather- Hall before, and they knew that no Mrs. eatherly was aunt to the Larch family, and that the lady who now called herself so was certainly y Wood, and that her Christian name was Mary, not Julia. Thus it flashed upon them all that she was testing the veracity of the intruder. ‘“¢Well, now let me inform you, my unknown nephew, that there is no such place as Feather- ly Hall; that you never saw me befcre, nor I ourself; that if you had been the veritable ‘ames Larch, I should instantly have recognized you, notwithstanding the lapse of years—(not so long as as wa suppose, though)—for he nd I met e New York the very year he died. Qu are not.of my nephew’s build, sir; and ius arr } | old nurse, Deborah, and the elderly vicar of this parish, and the head gardener will testify to your imposture as well asI! We shall bave numerous witnesses. You are doubtless a very clever rogue to have imposed on my real nephew and niece, and the means you have used for that purpose we shall see presently.” ‘*What!” cried Reginald, raising his head, while the light of his former self flashed back again. ‘‘Have Delia and I been deceived? Is, this man nothing to us? Oh, he has told us a specious tale! He brought me letters, old let- ters of my father’s, old letters of yours, also. aunt Mary. And hesaid that he had committed forgery, and stabbed a man, and so was glad to let the world believe him dead, for that he was stung by remorse, dishonored, and in the power of the law. And I—I was mad with grief, for this is what has rated me from Fay! Could I let her wed the brother of a criminal, one who might stand in a felon’s dock any day if discovered?” ‘Oh, Reginald,” faltered Delia, the life-blood rushing back to her heart, ‘‘you and I have been deceived in precisely the same manner.” ‘My dear, unhappy children!” cried Lady Wood. The late Mr. James Larch, utterly cowed and crestfallen, could not ejaculate one word in his own defense. Reginald, restored to himself, quietly took Lindsay’s = by the impostor, and then the young nobleman hastened to Delia’s side. “ Has this cruel story influenced you in sond- ing me from you?’ he whispered. “‘‘Is it this which has made you reason as Reginald did?” “I believed myself the sister of a felon, you know,” she whispered back again, as she yield- ed her fingers to his clasp. “Well,” continued dy Wood, turnin again to the wretched man, ‘ f£ think you will: be puzzled, clever rogue as you are, to answer some questions which will shortly be put to you in a court of justice. We will see that you do answer them, or receive the reward you merit.” “Stay, madam,” cried he. ‘I have a young daughter, Have some pity for my child. She is but fifteen. Isent her to negotiate with Mr. Reginald Larch. She personated his young and friendless niece.” Delia gave astart of joyful surprise, for all was explained now. “‘She bore my credentials to him, and he sup® posed me abroad, for I preferred to deal with the young lady personally, as likely to be more credulous than her brother. His supposed niece, who had been born abroad, and bed 1 but just arrived in England, whither I had sent her as ailast hope to appeal for funds to my, only brother, could not be questioned about things she remembered, for, you see, she could not be expected to know anything about them. Well, Iam a rogue, itis true; but I am also a father. Spare me, let me go free this night for my young daughter’s sake!” “« How did you get the letters belonging to my late brother?” asked Reginald, sternly, ‘Well, I was often employed by the rea] Mr. James Larch in America. You see that I am an educated man, gone to the bad; but Iam no | | |
Page 26
man-slayer. as I eA to be, for my own purposes. That J put in to furnish a motive for refusing to claim a large property. I intended, and nearly succeeded, too, in getting a provision trom both parties interested; but my own reck- lessness, or rather want of funds to fly on a sud- ‘den emergency, has provided for me in a way I did not anticipate. ““ Well, I was saying that 1 was an educated man. Mr. Larch was fond of talking about bis old home in England, and I, who never let an opportunity slip, questioned him carefully, at first merely with the intention of calling on his rich relatives in England as a friend, per- ro the gentleman, and making what I could of it, as chance might direct, if circum- stances brought me to this country. After- ward, when he died so unexpectedly, and when I read, years after, in the English papers of the death of his father, thisscheme matured itself, slowly indeed, but I acted on it at last. You see, I knew that his rich heiress-sister, and his pe nia wealthy young brother, bad never seen enough of him to remember bim, and I had got the letters. Poor Mr. Larch bad charged me often to let his family have his papers in case he died out in the Far West: and I secured them, in the first place, with the intention of using them asa valuable introduction: but lam a dilatory man, and then this scheme dawned upon me. Ihave told you all, now!” And, as he ended, in one moment, by a sharp turn, he had opened the window behind him, and stumbled out into the night. They pur- sued, but the darkness aided the pursued one, one after a fruitless chase they gave up the ef- ort. ‘*You should inform the police authorities,” said Lord Lindsay, as the two young men re- turned to the Abbey. **Oh, Lindsay,” exclaimed Reginald, linking his arm in that of bis friend, ‘‘ lam like a new man, Don’t think I can sleep here to-night. Come; I shall rouse up a groom and ride till dawn; for, till I have seen Fay, I can neither rest nor sleep. So you will send to the police station for me, eh, old fellow?” The two young men entered the stables toge- ther, roused up the groom, and soon afterward Reginald Larch went riding through the winter night to Sir Crofton Earle’s. THE HAUNTED HEARTS. The servant, who was first awake at Sir Crof- ton’s Manor House, was amazed to see youn Mr. Larch ride into the stable-yard. “Righ glad was he to seek the ample kitchen and warm himself by the fire, and from that stand- int he sent up a message to Miss Favorette Zarle, that he had ridden all night to see her. ‘Mr. Larch, did you say?’ asked Fay, faintly. **Yes, Miss Fay; and he does look so tired, and so happy.” Fay, with new life, sprung up, and was soon attired, and long before Sir Crofton Earle (who had sworn that Reginald should never cross his threshold again, and that he, Sir Crofton, would ruin him)—well, long before the testy baronet came down, or even knew of the turn affairs had taken, Fay and Reginald were laughing together over a comfortable breakfast in Sir Crofton’s dining-room. But this was a good three hours after Regi- nald’s arrival, for Fay’s first meeting with him she had believed lost to her forever was with no laughter, but with the deepest, most pathetic feeling. And Delia? What was she doing at the hour when Fay and Reginald had reached well-as- sured happiness? Surely Delia claims our chief attention, for we have.journeyed oftenest in her company in the course of this recital. We find her now at the window of a small saloon which overlooks the Abbey park and grounds, with Lindsay by her side. The misty sun has struggled into sight persistently through many folds of dark gray cloud, and as his rays break over the landscape, a sudden glory lights up the scene, : ‘See, Lindsay,” says Delia, speaking very soft and low, ‘‘that lovely light through the gloom is an emblem of my post days of sorrow. But the night has gone, and happiness has con- quered the clouds of grief which bung over me. i will forget the bitter past, that dreadful day when I went to London, and all the rest!” ‘*But you will forgive me if Jcan never for- get that day,” he says, tenderly, as hisarm en- circles her. ‘You must not ask me to forget that enchanting moment when, after all my despair, and I had told you that my heart would break to live without you, those two sweet words, ‘And mine,’ fell, unconsciously, from your lips.” END.
Page 27
HALF-DIME SINGER'S LIBRARY. _——_o0e—___—_ 1 Wuoa, Exara! and 59 other Songs, 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs, 8 THE GAINSBORO’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Morean and 60 other Songs, 5 uu Strike You Wire A Frater and 62 others, 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs, % Tue Bete or Rockaway and 52 other Songs, 8 Youne Fretian, You’rE Too FreswH and 60 others 9 Suy Youne Giri and 65 other Songs, 10 I’m THE GOVERNOR'S ONLY Son and 58 other Songs, 11 My Fawn and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Toro’ Tue Rye and 55 other Songs. 13 Tae Roiiickine IrisHMan and 59 other Songs, 14 Otp Dog Tray and 62 other Songs, 15 WuHoa, CHARLIE and 59 other Songs, 16 In rats WHEAT By ANp By and 62 otner Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I’w THE Boy rHat’s Bounp To BLaze and 57 others, 19 Tak Two OrpHans and 59 other Songs. 20 WHAT ARE THE Witp WaAvES Sayine, SISTER? and 59 other Songs. 21 INDIGNANT Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Tae Op Arm-CHair and 58 other Songs. 23 On Contry Istanp Bracn and 58 other Songs, 24 Op Simon, THE Hot-Corn MAN and 60 others. THE Sunnyside Library. 1 LatuaA Rooxu. By Thomas Moore............. 10c 9. DON JOARs By bOred Byron |i cts yandecdccce 20e 8 ParapisE Lost. By John Milton .......... .. 10¢e 4 Tor Lapy or THe Lake. By Sir Walter Scott. 10c - 10c From the 5 Lucite. By Owen Meredith....... 6 UnprnE; OR, THE WATER-SprRir. German of Frederich De La Motte Fouque.. 10c For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twe..e cents for single numbers double numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. 25 I’m in Love and 56 other Songs. 25 PARADE OF THE Gusrps and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Hrave, Ho! and 60 other Songs, 28 *TwiLtu NEVER po To Gig it up So and 60 others, 29 Brut Bonnets OVER THE BORDER and 4 others, 30 Tur Merry LAUGHING MAN and 56 other Songs. 31 Sweet Forart-me-Not and 55 other Sc n ss. 82 LeerLe Basy Mine and 53 other Songs. 83 Dz Banso AM DE INSTRUMENT FOR ME and 53 others- 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Just To PLEASE THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 86 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GUTTER and 52 others, 37 Kotorep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 388 Niz DEsPpERANDUM and 53 other Songs. 39 Tue Grru I Lerr Beuryp ME and 50 other Songs 40 "Tis put a LirrLe Fapep FLower and 50 others 41 Prerry WaitHetmia and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE BARN and 63 other Songs, 43 H. M.S. Prnarors, compLeTe, and 17 other Songs Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address. on rr- ceipt of Sia cents per number, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pus.iisHers, 98 Witiiam Street, New Yor. LIVES OF GREAT AMERICANS. I.—George Washington. | VI.—Daniel Boone. II,-—John Paul Jones. VIII.—Israel Putnam. TI.—Mad Anthony Wayne X.—-Tecumseh. IV.—Ethan Allen. XI.—Abraham Lincoln, V.—Marquis de Lafay-| XII.—Pontiac. ette. XI.—Ulysses S. Grant. Song Books. Brapir’s Dime Sone Boos, Nos, 1 to 34, containing the only popular collection cf copyright songs, Melodist, School Melodist, { Music and Words. Joke Books. Pocket Joke Book, Jim Crow Joke Book. : Paddy Whack Joke Book. : The above publications for sale by all newsdealers } or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, tem cents each, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 Wit1tuan 1 | Srrmer, N. Y. j
Page 28
— THE UA 7 Be ey Ee REN SR ne Each Speaker, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 50 to 75 pieces. Dime American Speak Young America, Birthday of Washington, .Plea for the Maine Law, Not on the Battlefield, The Italian Struggle, Lay come Our Country, The Equality of Man, Character of the Revo’n, The Fruits of the War, The Sewing-Machine, True Manhood, The Mystery of Life, The Ups and Downs, The Truly Great, ay Retiring and Ris’g, A. Ward’s Oration, True Nationality, Our Natal Day, Solferino, Intelligence the Basis of The War, [Liberty, Charge of Light Brigade, After the Battle, The Glass Railroad, Case of Mr. Macbeth, Prof. on Phrenology, Annabel Lee, Washington’s Name, The Sailor Boy’s Syren, Dime National Union and its Results, Our Country’s Future, The Statesman’s Labors, True Immortality, Let the Childless Weep, Our Country’s Glory, Union a Household, Independence Bell, The Scholar’s Dignity, The Cycles of Progress, A Christmas Chant, Stability of Christianity, The True Higher Law, The One Great Need, The Ship and the Bird, Tecumseh’s Speech, Territorial Expansion, Martha Hopkins, The Bashful Man’s Story, The Matter-of-Fact,Man, Rich and Poor, Seeing the Eclipse, Beauties of the Law, Ge-lang! Git Up, The Rats of Life, Creowning Glory of U. S., Three Fools, Washington, Our Great Inheritance, Eulogy on Henry Clay, Dime Patriotic America to the Work, Love of Country, Right of Self-Preserva- Our Cause, {tion, J. Jeboom’s Oration, A Dutch Cure, The Weather, The Heated Term, Philosophy Applied, An Old Ballad, Penny Wise, Pound Fool- True Cleanliness, {ish, Sat’d’y Night’s Enjoy’ts, “Tn a Just Cause,”’ No Peace with Oppres- sion, A Tale of a Mouse, A Thanksgiving Sermon, The Cost of Riches, Great Lives Imperishable | Unfinished Problems, Honor to the Dead, Immortality of Patriots, A Vision in the Forum, The Press, | Woman’s Rights, | Right of the Governed, My Ladder, | Woman, Alone, The Rebellion of 1861, | Disunion. Speaker, No. 2. Ohio, Oliver Hazard Perry, Our Domain Systems of Belief, The Indian Chief, The Independent Farmer Mrs. Grammar’s Ball, How the Money Comes, Future of the Fashions, Loyalty to Liberty, |, and Always, | British Influence, Defense of Jefferson, | National Hatreds, | Murder Will Out, Strive for the Best, | Karly Rising, Deeds of Kindness, | Gates of Sleep, The Bugle, A Hoodish Gem, Purity of the Struggle, Old Age, Beautiful and True, The Worm of the Still, Man and the Infinite, Language of the Eagle, Washington, The Deluge. Speaker, No. 3. A Kentuckian’s appeal, Kentucky Steadfast, Timidity is Treason, The Alarum, er,No. 1. | The Prophecy forthe Y’r Our Country First, Last, Webster's Polit’l System, | | April 15, 1861, The Spirit of °61, The Precious Heritage, The Irish Element, Train’s Speech, Christy’s Speech, Let Me Alone, Brigand-ier-General, The Draft, Union Square Speeches, | The Union, Our Country’s Call, The Story of an Oak Tree, L-e-g On My Leg, History of Our Flag, | T. F. Meagher’s Address, We Owe to the Union, Lincoln’s Message, / A Texan Eulogium, How to be a Fireman, The United States, Puff’s Ace’t of Himself, Practical Phrenology, Beautiful, Cabbage, Disagreeable People, What is a Bachelor Like? Funny Folks, SEC. I. SEC. II. Last Speech of Stephen A. Douglas, Great Bell Roland, The New Year and the King Cotton, [Union, Battle Anthem, The Ends of Peace, Freedom the Watchword Crisis of Our Nation, Duty of Christian Pa- triots, Turkey Dan’s Oration, A Fearless Plea, The Onus of Slavery, A Foreigner’s Tribute, The Little Zouave, | Catholic Cathedral The * Speculators. 2, Dime Comic Speaker, No. 4. Klebeyergoss on the War, ' A Song of Woe, | Age Bluntly Considered, | Early Rising, | The Wasp and the Bee, Comic Grammar, No. 1, I’m Not a Single Man, A. Ward’s Advice, Buzfuz on Pickwick, Romeo and Juliet, Ward's Trip to Richm'd, Parody, The Mountebank, Compound Interest, A Sermon on the Feet, Old Dog Jock, The Fishes’ Toilet, Brian O*Linn, Happiness, Crockett to Office-seekers Dogs, Who Is My Opponent? Pop, Political Stump Speech, | Comic Grammar, No. 2, Farewell to the Bottle, The Cork Leg, The Smack in School, Slick’s Definition of Wife, Tale of a Hat, The Debating Club, A Dutch Sermon, Lecture on Locomotion, Mrs. Caudle on Umbr'lla. Dime Elocutionist, No. 5. PRINCIPLES OF TRUE ENUNCIATION.—Faults in Enunciation; How to Avoid Them. Special Rules and Observations. : Tur Art or Oratory. Sheridan’s List of the Passions: Tranquillity, Cheerfulness, Mirth, Raillery, Buffoonery, Joy, Delight, Gravity, In- quiry, Attention, Modesty, Perplexity, Pity, Grief, Melancholy, Despair, Fear, Shame, Remorse, Courage, Boasting, Pride, Obstinacy, Authority, Commanding, Forbidding, Affirming, Denying, Difference, Agreeing, Exhorting, Judging, Approv- ing, Acquitting, Condemning, Teaching, Pardon- ing, Arguing, Dismissing, Refusing, Granting, De- pendence, Veneration, Hope, Desire, Love, Re spect, Giving, Wonder, Admiration, Gratitude, Cu riosity, Persuasion, Tempting, Promising, Affecta- tion, Sloth, Intoxication, Anger, etc. | SEC. III. Tue Component ELEMENTS OF AN ORA TION.—Rules of Composition as applied to Words and Phrases, viz.: Purity, Propriety, Precision. As applied to Sentences, viz.: Length of Sentence, Clearness, Unity, Strength. Figures of Speech; the Exordium, the Narration, the Proposition, the Confirmation, the Refutation, the Peroration,
Page 29
Conscience Guide, Whom to Honor, The Lords of Labor, Eerly Rising, Pumpernickel and Pep- schikoff, THE DIME SPEAKERS. the Best | Only a Tramp, Cage Them, Time’s Soliloquy, Find a Way or Make It, The Musquito Hunt, The Hero. Dime Funny Speaker, No. 21. Col. Sellers Elucidates, Clory Mit Ter Sthars und} Sthripes, lotism, Terence O’Dowd's Patri- Lime Kiln Club Oration, Farmer Thornbush on The Fiddler, [Fools, The Regular Season, The School Boy’s Lament, Dot Baby Off Mine, Bluggs Once More, Views on Agriculture, One Hundred Years Ago, De ‘Sperience ob de Reb’- rend Quacko Strong, A Dollar or Two, On Some More Hash, Where Money is King, Professor Dinkelspeigel man on the Origin of Life, Konsentrated Wisdum, Joseph Brown and the Mince Pie, John Jenkins’s Sermon, A Parody on “ Tell Me Ye Winged Winds,” | A Fogey Day, New Mythology (Vulcan), The New Mythology(Pan,) New Mythology (Bacchus) I Kin Nod Trink To-Nighd, New Church Doctrine, Wilyum’s Watermillion, Josiah Axtell’s Oration, Parson Barebones’s An- athema, Ceesar Squash on Heat, Fritz Valdher is Made a Mason, Joan of Are, Blessings of Farm Life, The People, Thermopyle, Cats, Jim Bludso; or, The Prai rie Belle, A Catastrophic Ditty, The Maniac’s Defense, Woman, God Bless Her! Be Miserable, Dodds versus Daubs, The Cadi’s Judgment, That Calf. Dime Jolly Speaker, No. 22, Grandfather’s Clock, The XIXth Century, Mary’s Von Little Ram, A Familar Lecture on Science, Old and New Time, Clayfoot’s Spirit Race, The Village School, A Sermon for the Sisters, De Filosofy ob Fun, Disappointed Discoverer, A Heathen’s Score, Der Dog und der Lobster, The Young Tramp, Delights of the Season, The Delights of Spring, Josh Billings’s Views, Beasteses, How tew Pik out a) Watermellon, How tew Pik out a Dog, How tew Pik out a Kat, How tew Pik out a Wife This Side and That, Nocturnal Mewsings, The Lunatic’s Reverie, A Bathetic Ballad, The Ear, Backbone, A Weak Case, They May Be Happy Yet, Orpheus, <A Side View, Perseus. A “ Classic,” Rigid Reformation, The Funny Man, Don’t Give It Away, A Dark Warning. A “Colored ”’ Dissertation An Awful Warning. An Effective Appeal, De Parson Sowed de Seed, Pompey’s Thanksgiving Turkey, The New Essay On Man, A New Declaration of ' Independence, The Jolly Old Fellow. Christmas Welcome, | My First Coat, The Fire-Brigade, A Patriotic “Splurge,” The Good Old Times, In- deed! A Congratulatory Reminder, Stealing the Sacred Fire, The Story of Prome- | _ theus Modernized, Owl and the Pussy-Cat Dime Dialect Speaker, No. 23. Dat’s W’at’s De Matter, The Mississippi Miracle, Ven Te Tide Mone In. Dose Lams Vot Mary Haf Got {man’s Rights, Pat O'Flaherty On Wo- The Home Rulers, Hezekiah Dawson Mothers-In-Law, He Didn’t Sell The Farm, The True Story of Frank- | lin’s Kite, [Again, I Would I Were a Boy | A Pathetic Story, AJl About a Bee, Scandal, | A Dark Side View, Te Pesser Vay. On Learning German, yee ShmallVite Lamb, A Healthy Discourse, Tobias So To Speak, Old Mrs. Grimes, | A Parody, | Mars and Cats, | Bill Underwood, Pilot, | Old Granley, | Passun A | The Pill Peddler’s Oration WidderGreen’s last words Latest Chinese Outrage, Dime Readings On | —_—— The Manifest Destiny of the Irishman, Peggy McCann, Sprays from Josh Billings De Circumstances ob a Sitiwation, Dar’s Nuffin New Under de Sun, | A Negro Religious Poem, | That Violin, Picnic Delights, Our Candidate's Views, Dundreary’s Wisdom, | Plain Language, My Neighbor's Dogs, Condensed Mythology, | Pictus, The Nereides, | Legends of Attica, | The Stove Pipe Tragedy, | A Doketor’s Drubbles, | The Coming Man, The Iligant Affair at Mul- | doon’s, {the Corner, That Little Baby Around A Genewine Inference. ’ An Invitation to the Bird of Liberty, The Crow, , Out West. and Recitations, No. 24. The Irishman’s Panora- ma, The Lightning-rod Agent es Tragedy at Four Ace Flat, Ruth and Naomi, Carey of Corson, Babies, John Reed, The Brakeman at Church Mooah’s’ §ur- mount, Arguing the Question, Jim Wolfe and the Cats, The Dim Old Forest, Rasher at Home, The Sergeant’s Story, David and Goliah, Dreaming at Fourscore, Rum, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud? The Coming Mustache, | The Engineer's Story, A Candidate for Presi- dent, Roll Call, Accession to the Family, | When the Cows Come Home, The Donation Party, Tommy Taft, A Michiganderin France, Not One to Spare, Mrs. Breezy’s Pink Lunch | Rock of Ages, |\J. Cesar Pompey Squash’s Sermon, Annie's Ticket, | The Newsboy, | Pat’s Correspondence, | Death of th’ Owd ‘Squire, | Mein Tog Schneid, | At Elberon, | The Cry of Womanhood, | The Judgment Day, The Burst Bubble, Curfew Must Not Ring To-night, The Swell, The Water Mill, | Sam’s Letter, Footsteps of the Dead, | Charity, | An Essay on Cheek. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price, ten cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PosrisHers, 98 Willliam street, New Y@rk,
Page 30
Dime Dialogues, No. 29. Who Shall Have the Dictionary? For six males and two females. The Test of Bravery. For four boys and teacher. Fortune’s Whee]. For four males. The Little Alsthetes. For six little girls. The Yes and No of Smoke. For three little boys. No References. For six gentlemen and three ladies. An Amazing Good Boy. One male and one female. What a Visitation Did. For several ladies. Simple Simon. For four little boys. | The Red Light. For four males, two females, and several subsidiaries. The Sweetest Thought. For four little girls. The Inhuman Monster. For six ladies and one gen- tleman. Three Little Fools. For four small boys. Beware of the Dog! For three ladies and three ‘* Dodgers.” Bethlehem. For a Sunday-School Class Exhibition. Joe Hunt’s Hunt. For two boys and two girls. Rags. For six males. Dime Dialogues, No. 30. Invisible Heroes. For five young ladies. A “Colored’’ Lecture. For four males. Wishes. For five little boys. Look at Home. For three jittle girls. Fisherman’s Luck. For two males and three females. Why He Didn’t Hire Him. For several characters. A Fortunate Mistake. For six young ladies, one little girl and a little boy. An Alphabetical Menagerie. For a whole school. The Higher Education. For eight boys, The Vicissitudes of a Milliner. For six females. Cat and Dog. For two little ones. re Zsthete Cured. For two ladies and three gen- | tlemen. Jim Broderick's Lesson. For two boys. The Other Side of the Story. For five females. The Test that Told For five males. Wooing by Proxy. For two ladies and three gentle- men, Learning from Evil. For five boys. The Teacher's Ruse. For ten boys and three girls. Colloquy of Nations. For eleven personators, Additional Personations for ‘* Goddess of Liberty.” A scenic piece in Dialogues No. 24. Dime Dialogues, No 31. Barr's Boarders. For various characters. A Lively Afternoon, For six males. A New Mother Hubbard. For six little girls. Bread on the Waters, for four females. Forninst the Scientists. Yor two males. Sloman’s Angel, For two males and one female. What Each Would Do. For six little girls. Twenty Dollars 2 Lesson. For eleven males, need Betsey’s Ruse. Yor three females and one male, The Disconcerted Supernaturalist. For one male and audience ‘* voices.”’ Grandma Grumbleton’s Protest. Fora “grandma” and several girl crandchildren, Nothing Like Training. Wor a number of males. The Bubble. For two little gi Is. 5 | Medicine for Rheumatiz, Jor two “ cullud pussons.’ | Naming the Baby. THE DIME DIALOGUES. That Book Agent! For three males and one female. The Well Tavght Lesson. For five little boys. A Turn of the Tide. For three male and three fe- male characters. A True Carpet-Bagger. For three females. Applied Metaphysics. For six males. bei Humphrey Did. For five males and three fe- males. Dime Dialogues, No 32. A Persecuted Man. For various characters. Too Curious for Comfort. For two males and two females, Unger False Guise. For several females and chil- dren, A Sure Guide, For seven males, The Eight Little Boys from Nonsense Land. How They See the World. For five little girls. The Doctor’s Office. For several characters male and female. Too Much Side Show. For a number of boys. sg ees Ponderous Was Paid. For four young adies. Poly wog Versus Wolypog. For numerous citizens. Tongue and Temper. For two ladies. The Flour of the Family. For three ladies and one gentloman. | Middleton’s Mistake. For five males. A Valuable Neighbor. For one lady and one boy. The Man of Cheek. For two males, Mr. and Mrs. Blizzard at Home. For man and wife. Morgan’s Money. For five males, bas arts of Miles Standish. For School Festi- val, Dramas and Readings. 20 cents. DRAMAS. The Hypochondriac. Yor five characters. | The Retrieved Name, For fifteen characters. A Moonlight Masquerade. For fourteen ladies. Matches Made in Attics. For five characters. Dandelions. For seven characters. Lottie’s Leap Year Victory. For four characters, The Friend in Disguise. For six leading eharacters and several subsiciarics, READINGS AND RECITATIONS, Parrhasius and the Cap- | The Last of Little Nell. tive The Raven, How to Practice Medi- |! Mary’s Lamb. cine. William Brown of Oregon Ramon, the Hero of El | Larry O’Leary’s Ghost. Refugio Mine. Which Shall It Be? The Bridge of Sichs. Go Teel What I Have | A Lecture on Matrimony. Felt. A Ramble in the Wood. Hamlet and Ophelia. Scene ina Mad-loune The New Baby. Red Riding Hocd. trandmother’s Notions. Addvess to the Comet. For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent, post- paid, to any address, on receipt of price, ten cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PveursHers, 98 William Street, New York, — —_ $ ee
Page 31
4 re POPULAR DIME HAND-BOOKS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. GAME AND PASTIME SERIES. HAND-BOOK OF SUMMER SPORTS—Comprising Walking, kunning, Jump- 5 5 Hach volume 100 12mo pages, sent post-paid on receipt of price—ten cents each. ing, Hare and Hounds, Bicycling, Archery, etc, With Complete American and English Athletic Rules. rollers,) Rink-Ball, Curling, Ice-Boating and Football. HAND-BOOK OF PEDESTRIANISM—Giving the Rules for Training and‘Prac- tice in Walking, Running, Leaping, Vaulting, etc. CRICKET AND FOOT-BALL—A desirable Companion, containing complete instructions in th. clements of Bowling, Batting and Fielding; also the Re- vised Laws of the Game: Remarks on the Duties of Umpires; the Mary-le-Bone Cricket Club Rules and Regulations; Bets, etc. DIME BOOK OF CROQUET—A complete guide to the game, with the latest rules, diagrams, Croquet Dictionary, Parlor Croquet, etc. DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING—Ewmbracing all the rules of the art for both sexes. : ; HAND-BOJK OF WINTER SPORTS, Embracing Beating, (on the ice and on | YACHTING AND ROWING—This volume will be found very complete as a N : | g § | 4 N \ ‘ 5 g N g 5 N \ N eee guide tothe conduct of watercraft, and full of interesting information alike to the amateur and the novice. RIDING AND DRIVING—A sure guide to correct Horsemanship, with com- lete directions for the road and field; and a specific section of directions and information for female equestrians. BOOK OF 100 GAMES—Out-door and In-door SUMMER GAMES, for Tourists and Families in the Country, Picnics, etc., comprising 100 Games, Forfeits, etc. DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR—A complete hand-book of instruction, giving the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating of games, YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES. 1—DIME GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER—Embracing Forms, Models, Suggestions and Rules for the use of all classes, on all occasions. 2—DI “© BOOK OF ETIQUETTE—For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to True Gentility and Good-Breeding, and a Directory to the Usages of society. 8—DIME BOOK OF VE RSES—Comprising Verses for Valentines, Mottoes, Coup- lets, St. Valentine Verses, Bridal and Marriage Verses, Verses of Love, etc. 4—DIME BOOK OF DREA MS—Their Romance and Mystery; with a complete interpreting Dictionary. Compiled from the most accredited sources. 5—DIME FORTUNE-TELLER—Comprising the art of Fortune-Telling, how to read Character, etc. F 6—DIME LADIES’ LETTRR-WRITER—Giving the various forms of Letters of School Days, Love and Friendship, of Societv, ete. : 7—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET—A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Court- ship and Marriage. Embracing also a complete Floral Dictionary, etc. 8—DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION—And Guide to Dancing. Giving rules of Etiquette, hints on Private Parties, toilettes for the Ball-room, ete. | 12—DIME BOOK OF BEAUTY —A delightful book, full of interesting informa- } tion, It deserves a place in the hands of every one who would be beautiful. POPP PB PPP PPP PPP PPP ee eee FAMILY SERIES. 1. DIME COOK BOOK. 4. DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN. 2, DIME RECIPE BOOK. 5. DIME DRESSMAKING AND MII- 3. DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL. LINERY. {7 The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price, 10 cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York. ee) eee — 9 — we —— eae
Page 32
NOLL LLP ANOLE LPP PLL LPP PPP PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY. Waverley Library. 4 j os . / THIRTY-TWO OCTAVO PAGES. 1A Bride of a Day; or, The Mystery of Winifred ‘ 42 The Bouquet Girl. By Agile Penne. gh. By Mary Ree d Crowell, Mariana, the Priina Donna. By Arabella So uthworth, 2T he G irl Wifes or, The True and the False. By | ¢ uy sy E ben Mask; or, The Mysterious Guardian. Bartley T. Campbell. sy Mra. Mary Reed Cr : 8 Was lt Love? or, ( “alhegi ans and Sweethearts. By | wate o . stb Sonthwo 88 Was She a Goonetter oc k Bienes Courtship, « A weno wane os ama By Arabella Southworth. By Henrietta ‘Thackeray, or 6?) a , 89 One Woman's Heart, By George S. Kaime. Under a Cloud. By Sara Claxton. Ready Febru- 40 Love-Maid; or, Betrothed, Married, Divorced and ary 23. By Wm. Meson. Fumer; Mj. The Cost of a Folly, By Georgiana Dickens. 41 For Her Dear Sake. By Sara Claxton. Ready March 2. PP PPAADRDA LAPP AARP OOO SS {POP OPOPODOIOLOLO_OL EL LEP The Waverley Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. Cheadle and Adams, Publishers, No. 28 William street, New York. ee es — PPP LAL LLL