Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 157) (1882 11 14)
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$2.50 a year. S Copyrighted No157. VoL. VIL. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST,, N. Y. A Girl's Heart. BY RETT WINWOOD. —— CHAPTER I. A SUMMER NIGHT’S REVELATION, Waar a hot, stirless night if was! Not a breath of air fluttered in the tree-tops, or lin- gered to wanton with the languid heart’s-ease and yellow daffodils hiding away in the dark recesses of the garden below. The heat was fearfully intense, It stifled and oppressed’ one with its fervor, Rachel Clyde felt the languor of the night as she sat gasping at the open window of her little bedroom. There was no light in the ,Foom save the silvery radiance of the moon- beams. She sat quite alone in the purplish dusk—alone with her own unpleasant thoughts. fully. A glass door opened upon a terrace at SHE FLUNG BOTH ARMS ABOUT BIS NECK She felt strangely nervous and distrait; once or twice she shivered without knowing why. “Is anybody walking over my grave, I won- der?” she murmured, and then laughed at her own foolish fancies. It was already quite late. The house had been quiet for more than an hour. But Rachel could not sleep. I don’t know which was most at fault, the oppressive heat, or her own dis- tressful thoughts. At last she arose. The close air of the room she could endure no longer. Throwing a light scarf over her head she glided noiselessly from the apartment, and slowly descended the stairs, pausing at nearly every step to listen. “ Madame Gale must not hear me,” she said, to herself, with a little grimace. “She does | not approve of night ramblers. I should be sure of a lecture.” So she groped her way onward, very care- AND / / PRICE, 5 CENTS one end of the balls. The key always hung on a hook close by—and this key Rachel intended to confiscate and let herself out with it. The darkness was quite intense in this part of the hall, for the glass door was thickly shaded with vines. But the girl knew the way perfectly, and almost at the first trial she found the hook where the key usually hung. But the hook was empty; the key was gone! Rachel gave a quick start as she made this dis- covery. She groped for the door-handle. It turned easily. The key was in the lock! She could draw but one inference from this fact—for Madame Gale was very particular about securing the doors at night. Somebody must have gone out before her. Who 'was it—Madame Gale herself, or one of the servants? Rachel stood quite still for a moment, puz- zled and at a loss. Should she go on and ren the risk of being discovered? UNG THERE, SOBBING ON HIS BREAST 4S IF HER HEART WOULD BREAK,
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Tearmat betrayed hei - = ee aft Oe she! io ae a. i = rounds looked dark and cool and. plea- oes chel could not withstand the tempta- ae herself in their odorous recesses. | 6 stepped across the lo and ran swiftly _ down t Wes 5 into the The ms oo oonlight would Digeak betrayed her had © darted “into the nearest’ shrubbery and ted” in” lingered near the house, Therefore she A CIES Se Pie ET. | ‘Have I not done so all. ‘these aria Has she ever troubled you?” "2 “Never,” moving. iinensily, ae Pipaias a deep breath. --“ Butat.this moment the danger is tenfold greater. than it,ever. was before. I’m heart-sick, Agnes, My iain d is heavy with ih teat : ie \\ » Madame Gale enti. an hs i . its my, tora more Ww area they ~ You were a, fool for’ éoming here, Poittinds grou The range, jemi Hush of. Ln YPecilfed t every g & purple arch of stars, he ewe. /The young-moon hung; a ee in the western heaven, The garden seemed like the evergreen ‘court of Some. enchanted ae ; Fitting up an down in the profound gloom ~ of the syringas and lime-trees, Rachel’s thoughti naturally turned into their former channel. The mystery that shrouded her early life at- fected her more powerfully than usual this | night,'* Why was it? \\ us fate about to prove itself kind at last, and open some of its mystic pages? Her history was ‘a peculiar one. ‘She, knew nothing of her parents—not even ifshe had a | right to the mame she bore, She had lived with Madame Gale ever since she could remem- ber. ness. Richard was her twin-brother, and she loved him fondly, ,But a terrible grief had crept into the lives of these two, and now they were separated. Rachel did not even know where her brother might be wandering. ‘Sometimes she feared he was lost to her forever. It is not strange that her thoughts were bit- ter ones as she wandered, up and.down the shadowy walks under the summer stars, . ._ Presently a foot stopped on the gravel path. ' Rachel heard it, thought suddenly of the un- bolted doors, and crouched low in the odorous gloom of tangled roses and rhododendrons growing close at hand. Not an instant too soon. ‘Two figures turned a sudden bend in the path, and came straight | toward her hiding-place.. One was Madame Gale. . Rachel recognized ' her instantly, despite the thin shawl madame bad taken the precaution to throw over her head. Her companion was a lady very eet | dressed. Rachel could not see her face dis- tinetly, for she wore a vail, ras was the - night. But her silk gown rustled be: the | walk as she advanced, ~ Rachel lay low in her eee quite Baie She was now frig a gg ‘a ‘Eyen the. cracking of a will not lift “ How ‘con It. yourself.” Every word reached Rachel’s hatinsicitly: ro and. pepe ni two women su 2h so close hiding-place |. that she might have touched their garments ‘; “‘T should say not.” _.*I see but _one.way out of our difficulty. Rachel must go. Tshall not draw a free breath while she remains.” ‘‘Send Rachel away?” “Certainly. Why not?” There was a moment’s silence. Madame Gale» seemed; to quiver with: some Suppressed emotion,» When she,spoke again her voice w not quite steady. ‘Pauline, I have learned to love that girl,” ‘“Tf you mean any harm to her you might as well give up your purpose first as c Horn) !” echoed the strange Maa scornfully, ** Don’t. be a fool, Agnes.” ‘What is your purpose?” “Rachel has been well, educated, Find her a situation to teach in some remote place, You might do it.” te Yes. ” ‘Will you?” ‘I don’t know,” hesitatingly. “‘ Lhave grown no other way?” “None. You can see for yourself what a risk we run wnile she remains.” “Yes, yes « Besides, ae precious scamp, Dick, might come back at any moment. And then we would have two ghosts instead of one to mur- der our rest.” “That isn’t likely. Dick wouldn’t dare come back, just yet.” “ ee ” ‘‘ And Rachel is such an innocent child she would never work ill to anybody.” ‘“‘ Bah!” sneered the acta lady; ‘‘I am not so sure of that.” Then, with a sudden change of tone, she added: ¥ ge seem BT sage and yet he, and began to move away. As if money made” up| I have not looked | 1 id turned, sire “i'm going back, Agnes,” she said, with a | to ‘shiver. “Ugh!” The garden seems to be haunted to-night. I can’t stay here; it’s under an evil spell.” She forced a strange, hard laugh, as she Madame Gale turned, without a word, and followed Rachel waited until the last echo of their footsteps had died in the distance, Then she rose, flushed and frightened. What @id it all mean? Who was this strange lady, who seemed to know so much of her, and had such good cause to be afraid of her. Why “More | was she afraid? Rachel stood breathless and palpitating. Oh, how she had longed and prayed to have the secret of her parentage revealed to her! To-night, at last, she knew she had stood on -| the verge of a great discovery. Could she let the golden opportunity slip away from her ness!” “T will dese ‘you ask of | me, Agnes, | forever? - only you must promise to keep that girl out of the way.” » : ‘Rachel Clyde?’ “Yes, Rachel.” No, no! Rousing herself, she fled wildly along the path by which the two ladies had just disappeared, She meant to throw herself ae I thought you. used to ber, and ‘dislike to give her up, Isthere_ ' ab their feet, and conjure them to tell bee, every- thi: ‘er mother! ‘They night akan her | mother! Rachel grew By ci Seni at the thought. ‘One word—one little, word of that sainited being: would ha ve’boen such a comfort toher! — Suddenly ee. ihiratel confronted her in her mad flight, as if it: had Tisen from the bowels of the earth. She stopped short, her heart! Satine fearful- ly loud.and fast. She, felt curious. eyes fixed upon herface, Yy “é Good-evening, “Miss Clyde,” said a cool, musical voice. Rachel gave a start of surprise. : “Dr, Tremaine!” she cried sharply. “] think this is a mutual surprise, Miss Clyde.” | Hor face flushed ‘purple. moon was no brighter. said, ina very low voice: “T did not éxpect'to meet anybody in the grounds at this hour.” He laughed, and looked at her mere fixedly , than ever, | **No doubt,” he antwakat ‘“‘T must confess to being an ’interloper. But the gates stood ‘open, and f could not resist the impulse to trespass.” ‘“‘T am sure Madame Gale would have made you welcome,” ‘*Madame,Gale has other friends to enter- | tain at the present moment, I believe.” | Rachel gave him a swift glance. know? Had he heard anything? “Other friends?” she echoed, He laughed again, and shrvgged his should- ers, whimsically. Rachel was sure shesaw his face change in the moonlight. “ Nil tmporte,” he muttered with a careless laugh... ‘‘Madame’s friends are nothing to me. Why should I concern myself about them?” Then, clasping the girl’s hand suddenly in his own: “ But I fear I am detaining you, Miss Clyde. These night damps are not good for one. You will have no roses in your cheeks to-morrow. Au revoir |” He swung on his heel and strode away in the darkness, Left alone Rachel drew a long, | shivering ‘breath of disappointment, and fled precipitately toward the house, Two stately figures still lingered b: _ den-gate. Madame Gale’s strange vy not taken her departure. Rachel fled past them noiselessly as a Eira The glass door opening upon the ter- race stood slightly ajar, just asshe had left it. _ She stole rast hone oager passage, and crept like a ted to her * close little chamber under nce —— she threw herself on She: felt glad the Did he the. gar- tor had J votpit ihe On my ‘mother!” she moaned. ‘Am [I live and grow old and die, never knowing more of you than I do at this moment? Am | I never to realize a mother’s love? If so, God give me strength to bear the disappointment.” Such had been the burden of her plaint for more nights than one. But it had never been so passionately earnest as now. ‘ _ CHAPTER II THH UNHORSED RIDER, RACHEL was paler than her wont the next morning. Even Madame Gale remarked it. “Tm afraid you are not well, my dear,” she said, speaking in a very gentle tone. | Rachel was sipping her coffee rather lan- guidly at the time, but she did not raise her eyes. | “Thank you,” she answered; “‘I believe I am as well as usual,”’ “Then you must have passed a bad night.” Madame saw the girl start and shiver, She was a shrewd woman of the world—was Ma- dame Gale. Human nature presented very few problems that she could not solve. Her Dropping hereyes, she . serutiny extended even to trifles. Rachel’s
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eee i a 1 show of emotion was not lost upon her by any means, “Yow are eating nothing,” she ‘said, sharp- ly, after a moment’s thinking, “Put on your bonnet and come with me for a walk; » You need the fresh air.” pat - Rachel silently complied. Madame did ‘not take the public’ promenade, as was her habit, but turned into’a shady green lane that seem- ed deserted, She walked on in utter silence, Rachel stole a swift glance into her face every now and then. Madame was alwaysa stern-looking wo- man, but now her countenance seemed colder and more forbidding than usual. Rachel’s heart sunk. “She is going to tell me I must leave here,” she thought. “ And if I- go I shall never know anything more of my ewn early history. There will be nobody to tell me.” Impelled by this fear, she suddenly caught Madame Gale’s hand and clasped it eagerly in her own. j “Ok, madame,” she cried, ‘you might make me so very happy, if you would! I think I have aright to know! You will not be cruel and refuse to tell me?” , Madame Gale drew back, frowning darkly. “Silly child,” she said, snatching away her hand, ‘you are hysterical. I don’t know what you mean.” “You do know!” screamed Rachel, almost beside herself. ‘I can see itin your face, I want you to tell me of my mother,” “Your mother?” she echoed. Then she bit her lip and laughed—a short, sarcastic laugh very disagreeable to hear, “Hush, child. Do not question me, . I¢ would not make you happier to hear about your. mother,” “Did you know her?’ Madame nodded. “And my father? Of course you musthave known: him, ‘too! ‘Oh, Madame Gale, dear Madame Gale, please tell me all about them.” “Bah!” cried the woman, angrily. ‘ Bo-si- lent, won’t you? If there was anything you ought to hear I should have told you long ago. She shook off Rachel's clinging hand ‘and hurried onward, — But her lips were white, and not easy of coatrol. Less than a yard away - she came to 0 sudden standstill: She had heard the thunderous thud of hoof- beats on the bard ground, and a. shrill ery of terror, Leoking back she caught a glimpse of a horse and rider, tearing like mad down ‘the lane directly toward her, east One quick glance told her that it was a run- away. She sprung to Rachel’s side, crying out sharply. On tore the maddened , beast, snorting wild- Y) and flecking its beautiful sides with foam, © bridle swung loosely, dragging through the peste grass nant lane, and a poor helpless gure clun, sperately to ig pe y the frantic crea- Of a sudden the horse gave a mad boun and shot like a flash past the two rset women, but he had left his rider lying in the hedge-row behind } ed, bruised, bleed- ing—possibly dead! Rachel rushed forward. She was calmer and stronger than Madame Gale in this sudden emergency. She tore aside the thick foliage of the hedge, and stooped over the body of the man. He lay perfectly still, exactly as he had fall- en. Madame caught a glimpse of the prostrate figure and screamed, wildly: “He is dead!” ‘Rachel swung sharply around. “Water!” she said, in a stern, low voice, “Be quick! 'There’s a house among those trees _ yonder.” ; Madame stood panting a moment, drew a pire) breath, and fled in the direction indi- ca’ Rachel lifted the senseless man’s head in her arms, She rested it gently against her shoul- par and began to chate the cold: brow with her tt A GIRL’S HEART. It was a handsome, high-bred'face’ she look- | for help. You and I can do nothing alore. ed upon. The features wers delicately, al- most sharply-cut, but the glossy hair cluster- ing so thickly about the white temples was well sprinkled with gray. : Rachel experienced a strange, indefinable thrill as she gazed upon that handsome counte- nance. It wore a weary, listless expression, even in unconsciousness, that appealed strong- ly to her feelings. She felt drawn'to the man by some powerful. but subtle fascination— whether of good or evil she could not have told. Ast last. he moved, moaned, and. opened his eyes with a wild stare, “Where am I?’ he asked, faintly. > “You were thrown from your horse; sir. I feared you might be seriously injured.” “Ah, yes. I remember, now.” - He passed his hand over his brow. Then, after-a moment’s silence, he looked into the girl’s sweet face curiously, ‘You are very kind,” he said, forcing a smile, ‘I’m afraid I have made you. a good deal of trouble.” “No, 20,” she cried, eagerly. you are 1% 6 much hurt.” “A litt} bewildered, ’ he answered. He shovk himself, made an effort to rise, but fell back groaning. ‘It’s worse than I thought, my sweet little friend. I will be compelled to trouble you still further.” “IT will gofor help!” cried Rachel, seeing how white he grew. “Not yet.” Rachel looked anxiously around, very much frightened. Footsteps sounded near, and to her infinite relief sho saw Madame Gale ra- pidly approaching with the water, which she brought in a tin dipper that bad hung by the well. Madame stopped short when she caught the first glimpse of the face which had been turned from her when she had first peered into the shrubbery at him. She stopped short, and ev- ery vestige of color fled from her face, leaving it frightfully pale. “*Colonel Heathcliff!’ she stammered. He stared hard at madame, and muttered a low exclamation. “This is a surprise,” he said, holding out his hand. bint y Madame Gale did not take it. Her knees knocked together., She crouched on the grass, staring pitifully at. the man’s handsome face, and began to wring her hands... He looked puzzled. ‘I am not a ghost, Ma- dame. Gale,” he said, trying to speak lightly. “Why. do you glare at me like that?’ The wretched woman murmured some apol- ogy. She arose, and stepped close to his. side, moving slowly and, with difficulty. _Her face was still very pale, “‘T have brought you water, Colonel Heath egy she said, holding the tin dipper to his ps. He drank eagerly, then pushed the tin away. “You are the last person I expected to see here, Madame Gale.” ‘*T live here,” she answered, briefly. “Indeed! I am sure my wife will be de- lighted to hear it.” Madame started, flushed a little, and an- swered; “Mrs. Heathcliff knows it already.” Then, bending nearer, she added, abruptly: , ‘‘Are you very much hurt?” r “JT don’t know,” moaning in spite of him- self, “That vicious brute did his best to kill me,” “How did it happen?” ; “Tt was some children at playin the lane that frightened the horse, I believe. I was riding very carelessly. At the first bound he gave, the reins were jerked from my hands, Of course I had no control over him after- ward.” Madame drew back alittle. She was doing her best to appear calm and. merely sympa- thetic, But she looked like a ghost. “Rachei,” she said, sharply, ‘you must go **T only hope Fetch a carriage-and two or three men to help us. Let somebody go for the doctor.” “Yes, madame.” =r Rachel arose, heaving a long-drawn sigh. She was still under the spell of the stranger’s wonderful eyes, so. full of soft languor and list- lessness. Hehad just such eyes, such. a face, and such a high-bred air as women always rave over. ». fs There must have beena magnetic sympathy bet ween the two, for Colonel Heathcliff raised himself on his elbow, and watched. the girl as she tripped lightly away, Whenshe was quite - gone from. his sight, he fell, back, groaning dis- mally, ‘ “Tm badly hurt,” he said. ‘But I did not wish to frighten that poor child. .: You, won’t mind my wailings, Madame Gale?” He forced a very faint smile.to his ashy lips. Madame could not answer, She looked dread- fully scared, and tempted to run away. ; After two, or, three contortions, Colonel Heathcliff seemed to breathe more easily... He wiped the cold damps from his forehead, and said, quite composedly:) ‘‘ Madame Gale, that girl has interested me. Who is she?’ coal Madame bit her lip. thinking, she “Myr ¢ aS RN | e of mysteries you-are!” he exc aimed, ‘The adoption must, have been recent. [never heard of her before. “No,” returned madame, ‘i tf was not re- cent.” ae Then she. turned away her face. She would) ynomore,* nd ie zy eae . ; , . A. Lone interval passed... Madame , Gale stood beside the wounded man, very pale and stern-looking, but never once remitting the Jlit- tle attentions the ere hi beh She seemed s y restless and ill at ease, however. After ew laconic sentences al- ready recorded, sh rcely spoke to Colonel Heathcliff until Rachel.made her appearance, followed by three or fourmen, ., jcThem she. stepped. qalalely.Sommard to. meet ems..., : bt Ot aint rey “Did. you order a carriage, Rachel?” she asked, eagerly, te? Yrs peracks Yo nf [i merieads One of the men made answers; .. | ‘The carriage will be here, in two. minutes, madame. This young lady has. executed ber commission. well.” feqioen Patil od He spoke respectfully, and in the low. tone of a person of some refinement, The. words, he seareely left ;his lips, however, when. the, car- riage itself dashed into view, turning the near- est curve. im the lane, and finally drawing. up at a little ce. ~ é Ud ote The sight seemed to restore Madame Guale’s animation. The color came back to her face, the light tohereyes, She Core ie eee ter aid, and Colonel Heathcliff was lifted up gently and borne to the carriage, __. 1 bey Rachel followed, watching him bie great, wide-open eyes, full of sympathy, It was sin- gular—the interest. with which this listless, world-weary man had inspired her! . He seemed near to her, somehow, as if they were friends already, Madame must have read something of all ‘this in the girl’s face when she turned, present- ly, from the task of arranging Colonel Heath- cliff comfortably in the carriage, for she caught Rachel’s hand and whispered, sharply; “Come away, child, You can do no more.” ' She tried to drag the child ont, of sight. Colonel Heathcliff. ving “Spa her purpose, and defeated it. Despite pain he was in, he looked round quickly and called. to her, ‘‘Madame Gale,” be pleaded, ‘‘let Miss Clyde go with me to Fairlawn.” Madame recoiled a little, caught her breath sharply, and answered: _. -
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ie - **Oh, no, no! Not there! there!” She looked so pale and shocked and fright- ened that Colonel Heathcliff could not resist the impulse to say, — @ suspicious lifting of his eyebrows: “And why not, pray?” The tone—not the question—brought mad- ame to her senses again. She bit her lip viciously. ‘Forgive me,” she murmured, after a brief | pause. edme. I hardly know what I say or do. Of course Rachel can accompany you, if you wish it.” “‘T do wish it, very much.” Madame bowed. She was smiling her best. But she looked ghastly. ‘We will both go,” she said. ‘Indeed, it js no more than right. I could not forgive myself, Colonel Heathcliff, for deserting you before becoming aware of the exteat of the in- juries you have sustained.” The colonel’s lip curled. Rachel cannot go | A GIRLS HEA ‘ART. She stopped short at sight of Rachel’s de- ure little figure, perched in one of the chairs of state that decorated the handsome parlor— stopped, uttered a quick exclamation, and then stood blandly smiling; looking down upon the shrinking girl. She was a very handsome woman—a sort of middle-aged Cleopatra— with flashing dark eyes, dark hair, a white soft skin, pure and | clear as an infant’s, and a superb figure. After a brief pause she moved forward a “This accident has strangely flustrat- step or two. Something in the girl’s face seemed to strike her attention suddenly. She stared at her fixedly, the rich color slowly ebb- | | ing from her cheeks. You are very kind,” he murmured, and | with a very expressive glance signed for Ra- chel to take her place ge ‘him. She did so, her heart, beating very fast and loud. Madame followed her into the carriage, after having given a few hurried * rection to the driver. A mo were en route, . It was a ride between Colone The colonel’s handso : did Mane set either of the tw Ment straight before her. E rnow and then the muscles about her firm tmouth contracted with either, ravel drive, hat curiously. They i ig and beautiful trail- | | distar a imposin peso built of eo : This was Fairlawn. place before, but she had never passed those | ponderous gates, which, to her vivid imagina- clenched hand in madame’s face, “you have | tion, had seemed to open into fairyland. The carriage drew upbefore a side entrance. Colonel Heathcliff was lifted out and borne up ‘the steps, but not before he had pressed Ra- face chel’s hand and whispered, earnestly: “One of my daughter’s friends, I suppose?” she said. speaking with apparent effort, Rachel started at the sound of that voice. It was a peculiar voice, low, sweet, subtle, Once heard, it could never be forgotten. Where had*Rachel heard it? She knew in aninstant. It was the voice of the lady who had been Madame Gale’s companion in that moonlight ramble! A strange horror and dread came over her at the thought. She caught her breath quick- | ly. Some sharp sentence trembled on her lips, but she checked herself, and brought her color | back, by a powerful effort. *y 'know your daughter. at | “T do not I came here with “No,” she stammered, faintly. Colonel Heathcliff.” The woman started back at these words as if she had been struck. Even her lips grew livid. A dead woman could not have looked more ghastly. She raised one of her jeweled hands, tried to speak, but her voice died away in a _ husky whisper. | (ee on either hand. At she said, making a quick sign CHAPTER IV. WAS IT FATE? At this instant footsteps approached the door. It was opened quickly, and Madame Gale en- tered. ‘The carriage) A moment of breathless silence followed. pve! Rachel There must have been strange thoughts in the , presently, and’ mind of each of those three, as as they stood and stared at each other. Madame Gale was the first to speak. She throngh handsome and well-kept looked anxious and worried. “T came in search of you, Mrs. Heathcliff,” caution, © The lady started; a shiver ran over her, and then she seemed to conquer the spell that held at “had seen the her senses in thrall. “Oh, Agnes!” she shrieked, shaking et a sharp glance, and then seemed to be satisfied. Her face resumed its na’ expression once: | more; she even forced a faint smile to her lips. | “ My head is in a whirl to-day,” she said, toward Rachelonce more. “TI belicve | Tam hysterical. You will forgive any wild- | aes any rudeness of which I have been guilty.” | She said this in a tone of such soft appeal that Rachel, who had stood perplexed and si-/ lent, watching this scene with curious eyes, felt her heart melt within her. | Do not distress yourself, dear lady,” she said, eagerly. ‘‘And Iamsure you have no reason to apologize.” Mrs. Heathcliff thanked her, and rose up feebly and with difficulty, as if she had sud- denly grown old, “T must go to my husband,” she said. ‘‘ Where have they taken him?” “To his own room, I believe,” answered madame. She went out without another word. Mad- ame sat very still for some minutes after she was gone. She seemed to be considering with herself. At last she pushed achair close up to- Rachel, and sat down. ‘‘You must think all this is very strange,” she said. ‘“f can explain it in two words. Mrs. Heathcliff had a daughter who died, and you resemble her. I noticed the likeness my- self, It struck Mrs, Heathcliff so forcibly as to quite unsettle her reason for a few minutes! You understand it all now?’ She paused, waiting for an answer. A swift shudder ran all over the poor girl. She sud- ne flung out both her arms and burst into heaven don’t deceive me,” she cried, hysteri- cally. Madame started, frowning darkly. was scarcely prepared for this outbreak. ‘‘Who said I was deceiving you?” she we manded, angrily. ‘*But you are, madame. I know you are keeping back the truth. There is something I am not to find out. It is cruel, cruel to keep me in this uncertainty.” She grasped Madame Gale’s arm, and looked up into those inexorable eyes with an agony of entreaty that would have melted a heart of stone. “THERE is some mystery between you and. Mrs, Heathcliff,” Rachel went on, wildly. ‘You have not ‘given the true reason for her rudenessto me. She fears me—I saw it in her face. What does she know of me or mine? be 3. “Oh, madame, dear madame, for the love of She | told that girl everything! You Rave brought , Ob, tell me!” her here to ruin me!” Madame -paled perceptibly, and her stern grew sterner still. & Hush! !’ she cried, “Be quiet! Take care dic. — will not go away without seeing me what you say or you will regret it.” again ONG, ” she had answered, qaiekty: quite un- a chair, and beginning to wring her jeweled | able to ‘resist his pleading glance. She and Madame Gale were shown into tho | ‘drawing-room, and left tothemselves. Madame seemed unaccountably restless, She could not sit quietly a moment, but began to pace the ‘floor with great: strides like a man’s, keeping her back turned upon Rachel. ‘What matters it what Tsay? ?” dropping into ‘hands piteously. “‘ You have betrayed me, I | am a ruined woman.” “Fool!” snarled madame, in a savage whis- per. ‘‘Get up and try to compose yourself. Unless you do, I wash my hands of your affairs from this moment.” Mrs. Heathcliff looked up a little luridly, Every now and then she muttered incoher- | and seemed to realize for the first time that ently. It was a habit she had when greatly her fears might have been premature. excited. Rachel only caught a word or two of what she was saying. come, sooner or later, God help us all!” “That girl!’ she said, pointing darkly at “T knew this weuld Rachel, and speaking very low, “TI know who she is. She came with my husband. Why | This was the only complete sentence that was it—answer me that?” reached the girl’s ears. She sat staring at ma- dame’s restless figure, very much frightened and amazed, and on the point of bursting into | tears. At last the woman turned sharp her a moment, glaring at her ina hom ly—faced , savage “Do you not know that Colonel Heathcliff has been injured?” “No,” she answered, starting. ‘IT have been walking in the garden. I just camein. Tell me all about it.” |- “He was thrown from his horse. Rachel Madame angrily shook loose her arm. But she was evidently frightened. “Little fool!” she muttered, with a shrug anda grimace. ‘ What is this you are say- ing? I don’t believe you know. Be quiet, child, or I shall think your brain is turned.” Rachel cowered in her chair, sobbing con- vulsively. She was growing more and more hysterical every minute. Her agitation prom- ised soon to overstep all bounds. Madame, as she sat staring at her dismally, with an odd look in her dark eyes, must have feared this. She arose suddenly, saying, in an impatient voice: . “Come away. You are not fit to remain here. We will go: home.” Rachel shrunk away from her. ‘‘No,” she cried. © ‘Colonel Heathcliff will send for me directly. I ‘promised him I would | remain.’ “Bah! Bah!” with an ugly sneer. forgotten rour existence ere this. | fool, child.” She shifted uneasily, but Rachel did not stir. Seeing this, she fell to coaxing and flattering. She was evidently bent on getting the girl out ““He has Don’t be a. way, asif tempted to do ‘something desperate, | and f chanced to witness the accident. We ran | of the house as quickly as possible. then.went slowly from the room. Rachel sat quite:still, waiting. An interval passed—perhaps five minutes, perhaps fifteen —she felt incapable of measuring ‘time—and then came the sound of rustling silk, and a lady stepped into the room through the low French window opening into the garden. to his relief, and he igisted we should bring him home,” B That is all?” aid Madame nodded. © ‘“You have nothing to fear.” The color came slowly back to Mrs. Heath- cliff's cheeks. She gave madame one long, | eee te a Before she had succeeded in her purpose, a servant tapped at the door. pareg brought a message. 4 Colonel Heathcliff wishes ti see the young td Rachel sprung to her feet with a cry of de- Fai
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- A GIRL’S HEART. “He has not forgotten me!” she exclaimed. ‘“*T was sure he would not. Madame, take me to him, at once. Iam certain you know the way.” \ Madame gave a scared sort of grunt. Fora moment she stood debating with herself; but sirear in Rachel’s face seemed to decide er, 4 “You don’t know what is best for you,” she said, flushing. ‘But I am done reasoning. If you will see that man, follow me.” She flung open the door, crossed the hall, aud began to thread a long passage branching Rachel followed her, eager and expectant, but all atremble, Somehow ‘She felt relieved at the thought that she was away to the right. going to see Colonel Heathcliff againalmost happy, in fact. RAL Bh Madame paused before a door at the end cs passage. At the sameinstant it was quick y Opened from within, and a young lady step “ped out to meet them. a ; She was very beautiful and richly 4 oc She had a brilliant complexion, full of tints exquisite as an artist’s creation, great almond — eyes of soft gloom, and silky blue-blac alr. j ‘dark, almost malignant expression come into those splendid orbs? Before Rachel had time to more than form the question in her own mind, the young beau- -ty was greeting Madame Gale quite cordially. ‘It’s an unexpected pleasure to welcome you ' ‘to Fairlawn, madame,” she said, in a rich, mu- sical voice. Then she stopped short, and color- eda little. 5 Tt had just occurred to her ‘that the platitude sounded somewhat absurd, perhaps, when the circumstance that had occasioned’ madame’s Visit was taken into considerations Madame smiled and shrugged. “Don't waste compliments upon an old wretch like me, Grace, unless you wish to rw “en ae was her response, |) ’s a warning, I suppose. No matter ” She paused, and stole another glance at Rachel. ‘Please introduce me to your young friend,” “she added, in an aside. een snarled madame, maliciously. ‘I wonder if you will say it’s a pleasure to see . Rachel here?” . Without waiting for a reply, she went through ‘the form of the introduction. ‘Miss Grace Atherton, Miss Rachel Clyde.” Miss Atherton held out her hand. “I hope we will be friends, Miss Clyde,” she said, forc- -ing a smiles ‘‘T will see you again presently.” She bowed, and passed on. Rachel shivered, -as though a cold draft of air had blown over her, and shrunk closer to her companion’s side, without knowing why. Madame’s keen eyes caught the movement. She rubbed her wrinkled little hands together, beginning to laugh. “Dm afraid youare not pleased with Grace,” 4c She : is ae beautiful, Iam sure she ought to be very “Humph!” grunted madame. . Rachel gave her a swift glance and went on ~« to ask; { “Who is she?” “Grace Atherton?. I thought you would guess. Mrs, Heathcliff has ieee repeater twice. Grace is the offspring of the first marriage.” “ Ah!” murmured Rachel, witha sudden re- vulsion of feeling. She had begun vaguely to suspect that Mrs. Heathcliff must be her own mother. But, at these words of madame’s, the half formed hope was dissipated. . Grace and she were very dissimilar... Nature ‘plays odd freaks sometimes, but nothing so odd as a close relationship between her and Grace “would have been, ~ In the midst of these reflections madame “thrust open the door. An instant later Rachel ‘was ling dizzy and dismayed, beside the «couch on which: Colonel Heathcliff was lying, ¥ Se ee Te ee > os Z § | sweet smile, | and selfish, I wish I dared be.” =| Rachel saw. what a wistful look he gave her, | oh ans *} and murmured, faintly: She shot Rachel a swift look from under- | “neath her long lashes. Was it fancy-—or did’a | and his wonderful blue eyes, with their sofé | languor, were again scanning her lovely “Tt was very kind "e said, just above his breath. Rachel flushed *T could not this brief dialogue was ed to begrudge every me UP to OCMERB i (oss cell aes “You see I am to play the » for the present, my dear,” he said, with a sad, ‘All sick persons are exacting “What would you do, sir?” _ “T should insist on keeping you at Fairlawn to nurse me.” , She gave a great start of surprise, and so did madame, and the latter cried out, quickly; **No, no! . That could not be!” At this instant Mrs. Heathcliff advanced from the far end of the apartment, where she had been standing with her back to thém. She was bland and smiling, but her lips were white. ‘ “T heard what my husband was saying,” giving Madame Gale a significant look. ‘It is wish, as well as his, that Miss Clyde remain,” ame dropped her eyes, tapping the car- pet nervously with her foot. **T believe you are all going crazy,” she mut- tered, “No,” responded Mrs. Heathcliff, sweetly. “But my husband has taken a violent fancy to Miss Rachel. He and I were discussing the matter before you came in. He does not wish her to go away; and of course he must be humored.” She forced a laugh, staring at madame ina hard, lurid way the latter did not like. And so, after a moment’s thinking, madame made answer: 4 “‘Tf you are really in earnest I shall not op- pose you. Rachel can remain.” ; Then she drew Mrs. Heathcliff abrvptly to one side, $ ‘What have you done?” she cried, in a fierce whisper, ‘‘ How dare you keep that girl here, Pauline?” : ‘‘ush!” was the low answer. ‘‘ What else could I'do? I could not send her away against my husband’s wishes,” cc True. ” Madame heaved a deep sigh, and said no more, But her face grew graver and sterner than before, and she cast uneasy glances to- ward the couch where the master of Fairlawn was lying. a ¥ What was the nature of the dread she evi- dently experienced? ; An hour later she quitted the house alone, and another great question in Rachel’s life- drama was thus decided. CHAPTER V. THE BOUQUET’S MESSAGE. ‘““Waat wonderful changes even twenty- ‘four short hours can make in the current of one’s life,” thought Rachel, as she sat in her private room at Fairlawn that night. It was a beautiful chamber with pictures and statuettes adorning the walls, a soft rich car- pet upon the floor, and curtains of creamy lace falling away from the large windows, Gazing around, with a bright, pleased smile, she thought she had never seen anything so pret- ty, so comfortable in all her life. yole of invalid 5 Tt was a change from the close little bed- om under the roof she had occupied at Ma- The events that had wrought this transfor- me | mation seemed like a bewildering dream, Ra- | chel almost feared to close her eyes lest all the beauty and elegance should vanish, and she should find herself back again in the old hot, comfortless apartment, } Everybody had been very kindtoher. Even Mrs. Heathcliff and Grace had unbent a litile from their usual haughtiness of spirit, spoken afew gracious words, and made an effort to place her at ease among them. But she felt that she could like no one half so well as the master of Fairlawn himself. Idling there in the dreamy stillness of her chamber, she tried to analyze the fascination he exercised. It was not his handsome face with its sadness and languor and wonderful blue eyes that drew her to him so strongly; it was not his smile, so sweet, tender and sym- pathetic; it was not even his kindness or the extraordinary interest he manifested in her- self, No; the cause of the glamour must be look- ed for elsewhere. She felt its power and yield- ed to it, without knowing whence it came. Colonel Heathcliff seemed like one to rever- ence—to raise to the topmost seat among her idols. It was no silly, romantic passion she had conceived for him, but a reverential love and trust, such as she might have. given to her own father, had'she ever known him. The deep reverie into which she‘ had fallen was a dangerous one, and it was well, per- haps, that a quick tap at the door’soon brought her wandering spirit back to this everyday world. One of the maids stood without. ““Miss Grace is in the’ drawing-room,” she said, courtesying quite low to Rachel. ‘She would be pleased to have you join her there, if agreeable.” ; ‘‘ Certainly.” Rachel stole softly down the stairs, her h fluttering a little faster than its wont. Truth to tell, she was. just a little afraid of this haughty beauty. .. ame uae Grace flung open the drawing-room door, and called to her quite graciously: “Come in, Miss Clyde. is why I sent for you,” She swept languidly to a seat. Rachel thought her more beautiful than eve™ in the soft sheen of the lamplight, Her eyes glitter- ed brightly, and a sumptuous carmine stained either cheek. Her dress was a rich silk, re- lieved by heavy folds of rare old lace. | Rachel had never seen so magnificent a woman, No one would ever have thought of calling her sweet ot lovely. Superb was the only word that fitted her. She would have shone a star in the festive crowd—a queen reigning by right of her mar- velous beauty, to which even the coldest her- mit must have paid unwilling tribute. | , “‘T thought we ought to make each other’s acquaintance as soon as possible, since you are to remain here for the present,” she said, quiet- ly. “Odd, isn’t it, that papa Heathcliff should have taken such a liking to you?” __ Rachel shrunk a little from the bold glare of th.se flashing orbs, and murmured some- thing to the effect that she “thought it quite unaccountable,” , Grace laughed at her reply, whatever it was, : ‘“‘What.a demure little thing you are!” she exclaimed, ‘Not a shadow of vanity or co- quetry in your disposition! I’ve been watch. ing you, Jenny Wren, and I flatter myself that I can read people passably well.” | “Oh, Miss Atherton!” "i “Did I frighten you? Or are you only shocked at my funny way of talking? Never mind, you'll soon get ep Ho ‘it, and will not TE Reta teeny a dag St eee Sh saw Rachel change color a little, oa, ughing crossed to the piano an opened it. Srhahe the Wak pers to clear : he One “Hy foi Gees . , I was lonely; that
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_ at the piano, 7 Hl 1 Bo, se y away the created, ‘‘Do you play, Miss Clyde?” she said, rather of Dr. doubtfully. A little.” A GIRL’S, HEART. we Rae of , unfavorable impression she ‘had’ _ What an artless child,” declared Grace, cing up swiftly int the grave countenance lan arate, “D | you ever see any- nit li ge 3 ” body 80 perfectly unsophisti | ned as not spoiled her,” he answered’ Rachel's eyes began to sparkle, and a soft “God grant it never may.” — flush crept into her chéeks, “Tlove music,” she added apologetically. “It is my only passion.” Grace opened wide her eyes. | She lifted her eyebrows a little. “Of coursé it is all very pretty, Dr. Tre- maine. It’s like a new sensation to mect a ‘woman who wears her heart on her sleeve. | “Did Madame Gale provide you with in- One very rarely has that pleasure. I wonder structors?” she asked. “Oh, yes; madame has been very good to! me in that respect.”. “Humph! I would not have believed it.” She paled perceptibly, as she spoke, Some. gust of passion seemed to sweep over her. | Her splendid eyes flashed more and more brightly, and her breath came short and quick. Whatever may have caused her emotion, it was over in an instant. Blandly smiling, she drew her reluctant companion to the piano. “*T am anxious to hear you play, Miss Clyde. You will oblige me?” “Tf you really wish it.” Rachel trembled a little as she took her seat At first her fingers ran over the keys somewhat unsteadily. Then, gaining courage, as her soul filled with the inspiration of music, she struck into en air of such tangled sweetness, such a low, tender babbling of melody and delicious sounds, that Grace held her breath to listen. The rippling notes died away—a few hard chords gave out their hoarse undertone, and then the mel broke out again, this time loud, fierce, exultant, like an imprisoned soul ““that’had bullet ite bonds asunder. The notes rose, fell, crashed through the silent room, melting at last into the dreamy hush of the summer night, ’s. hands slid. away from the key- “board. She sat quite still, drawing a long, sob- bing breath, “Bravo!” cried a voice: from the doorway, and there came suddenly the sound of a noisy encore. habe _. Grace looked up, biting the blood from her full red lip. : : __,Dr, Tremaine!” she cried out, sharply. He came quickly forward—a tall, handsome | man of twenty-five, with a proud, high-bred face, and a pair of wonderfully keer, bright dark eyes, . ‘ft heard the music,” he said, Sey) “and could not bear to ring, thus breaking FO SOO on enon tt ca ee eich The eld fable of Orpheus over again,” laughed Grace. “However, youare very wel- come.” .. '., He bowed in acknowledgment, and’ said, quietly; : “Vt is areal surprise to meet Miss Clyde here,” Rachel rose at that, smiled very faintly, and moved away from the paino. The sheen of . tears was in her violet eyes. Grace regarded her wonderingly, “I'm afraid I have pained you in some way,” she said, _ ; “Oh, no, no!” cried Rachel, choking back her sobs, and moving still further away. Grace followed her relentlessly, ‘*'You are grieved—wounded,” she persisted, “Will you not tell me why?” “It was the music. I shouldn’t have played that piece. I. don’t know what possessed me, Iused to play it for somebody who is very dear to me, until to-night.” bx i Sew Nay _The_last words were huskily spoken. , She gave Grace a, pleading look that might have _ melted a heart of stone, — “Perhaps your friend is dead? went on that rich, musical voice, so full. of seeming i: 0, no, he is not dead. At least I hope he 2 eee er Oe | Rachel could say no more, She ran to the open window, and stood there with her face hidden, looking out into the dusky night, 'if poor Rachel has lost her lover!” He bit his lip savagely, but made no answer. Grace was shrewd enough to see he did not like the turn conversation was taking, and so abruptly changed the subject. A brief interval passed. While Dr. Tre- 'maine and Grace talked, they fell, half-uncon- sciously, to watching the still figure of Rachel by the open window. Suddenly they saw her draw back with a stifled cry. At the same instant a small bou- quet of tuberoses was flung through the win- dow by an unseen hand, and fell at her feet. She picked it up, glancing sharply round as she did so. Her face blanched, and she drewa | long, sobbing breath. Grace ran up to her. , ‘*You are ill, Miss Clyde,” she exclaimed. **'You look a ghost.” Rachel’s eyes dilated a little. She made one or two futile attempts to hide the bouquet, looking very white and frightened as she did 8 0. | “No,” she gasped. ‘Please don’t mind me, It’s a sudden faintness, and will be over di- rectly.’ She looked so pale and miserable that any other person would have been moved to pity. But Grace Atherton did not know the meaning of the word, ‘“T hope so, my dear. Here is my vinai- grette. Sit down; you are not fit to stand.” Then, bending over her with an air of well- simulated solicitude, she added: “What lovely flowérs! They were thrown through the window, were they not?’ Rachel felt’ Dr. Tremaine’s curious eyes fixed upon her face, and longed to sink through the floor as she answered faintly: “They were.” ** How. odd!” Grace forceda laugh. ‘You must have made a conquest, Miss Clyde. Shall | piano. I congratulate you upon your unknown ad- mirer who prefers to hide himself in the dark?” Rachel attempted no reply. But she looked so miserable that Dr, Tremaine came to her relief. “‘T wish I might trouble you for one of your new songs, Miss Atherton.” _ “Certainly,” answered the beauty, her lip curling disdainfully. Dr. Tremaine led her to the piano. But he was not by any means unmindful of the beam- ing look of gratitude vouchsafed him by a pair of misty, violet eyes. I fear he saw those tear-wet eyes, and that “white, pleading face far more distinctly than he did the notes on the music-leaf he turned for Grace a few moments later, As for Rachel, she sat very still, looking ‘hard at the bouquet she held. Tuberoses! She knew full well whose favorite flower they were, Their sweetness turned her sick, A thousand fears beset her. Suddenly she felt a paper'rustle under her hand. Parting .the clustering leaves, she drew out a tiny note, literally smothered in Ihave not played it for months | sweets, hidden away in the very heart of the bouquet. Dr. Tremaine and Grace were still at the They had their backs to her. Spread- ing@the note open with a trembling hand, she. read these words: “T heard you playing that old tune I used to love 80 well, just now. Do rn know what the sweet notes told me, Rachel? ey told me that I was not otten, that some kindly memories were. still ch ed in your heart.for me, “T must see you. Come out in the garden as soon as you can get away. I shall wait for you there.” CHAPTER VI. THE MYSTERIOUS MEETING, THE lines of this note were written in a stiff, crabbed hand, A lead pencil had been | used, and the words were uneven and jagged, sometimes even running into each other, as if | the writer had had insufficient light for his | purpose. There was no signature, None was needed, | Rachel would have known that hand any- where, despite its present irregularity. The words, too, were amply significant, She read them two or three times over, growing paler and more frightened-looking each time, and at last crumpled the note in her hand, . ‘God help me!” she murmured. Then she began to tremble. The words of the song Grace was singing with such abandon at that moment, sounded indistinct and far- off; she grew giddy; the lights seemed to dance before her eyes—the room to swing round and round, She struggled hard against the faintness hat beset her, and at last conquered it. Rising slowly and with difficulty, she tottered for- ward a few steps. “Tam not well,” she said, faintly. will excuse me, Miss Atherton?” Grace stopped short in the noisy interlude she was playing. “Of course you can go, if you are ill,” she answered, witha shrug. ‘I don’t “believe it is-good for you to receive anonymous bou- quets.” It was a bitter shot, and hit hard. Rachel put out her hand involuntarily, as if to shield. herself from a blow, clinging to the nearest chair for support meanwhile, Dr. Tremaine’s handsome facedarkened. He leaned toward Rachel, whispered a word or two in her ear, and sliding his arm about her, led her to the door, Grace followed them with her eyes. sd lingered a moment or two on the thres old, and a few more words, very low and very earnest, were spoken by Dr. Tremaine. Grace bit her lip fiercely. “Good God!” she hissed, between her close- set teeth. ‘‘Is that girl to be the bane of my whole life? Is she to steal his love from me,. with all the rest? Ab, how I hate her!” Dr. Tremaine turned back with a slow and thoughtful step when Rachel was gone. He looked very pale and grave. _ “Tknow you pity Miss Clyde,” said Grace, sweetly, laying her hand on his arm. “ You. - think she has some great trouble to bear,” He started slightly, and answered: 6c I do,” ’ “Poor dear. I quite agree with you. But she does not confide in me, I can only guess the nature of her sorrow.” She heaved a deep sigh. silence she resumed: ‘*Miss Clyde must have met with some terri-- ble disappointment. A lover turned out bad- ly, perhaps. How long have you known her, Dr. Tremaine?” “Three or four weeks,” ‘* And my acquaintance with her dates back. only a few hours. You have the advantage of me.” A brief silence fell, which was broken by Nr. Tremaine, eth “Why is she here?” he asked. “To humor a whim of my father’s, The. whole circumstance is quite romantic. I will relate it in detail, some time.” She smiled, a: trifle satirically, it seemed. Moving across the floor, with the firm, majes- tic tread of a queen, a. sudden ery broke from her lips, j ‘“Who passed the window, just now?’ she demanded: ‘‘Did you see no one?” Dr. Tremaine answered in the negative. “Surely I was not mistaken! A shadow seemed to flit quickly past—a woman’s figure. - Just heaven!—it was not Miss Clyde?” ‘She stood still and looked at her with an expression of odd, almost quiry. You After a moment’s: Ce) on ine ee eS SS ————————EEEEEE———E—E————————————————————————————— ee
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‘He made no answer, but paled perceptibly. Some sudden fear or pang of suspicion seemed to strike him dumb. “Tt must have been Miss Clyde,” she went om sharply. “Dr. Tremaine, you must follow er.” ‘No, no.” “You must! The poor child will do some mischief to herself, I know there is something wrong. Go!” He still hesitated. There were great beads of moisture on his forehead. Grace played her role well, She seemed al- most wild with fright and dread of what was about to happen. . She darted into the hall and flung a light scarf over her head. “You shall go!” she cried, sharply. “ See, Tam going with you. That poor child! She is mad to go wandering about at this hour of the night. Ob, you will not let any harm come to her, Dr, Tremaine?” ‘‘God forbid!” he answered, in a deep voice, No further urging was necessary. He took Grace’s hand in his, and they left the house together, “This way,” she whispered, turning into the nearest path, ‘I am sure the figure went this way,” They walked on rapidly. It was a very narrow path, sheltered by acacias and other flowering Shrubs that made the night air heavy with sweets, Near the lower extremity was an arbor. Theyhad nearly reached this when they caught @ glimpse of a slight, girlish figure a few yards iD advance, ““There she is,” said Grace, softly. Miss Clyde.” _ At the same instant a second figure stepped into the path—that off tall man enveloped in m cloak. Rachel sected to stare at~ him breathlessly oment, then the flung both erms about histneck and clung there, sobbing on hisbreast ts if her heart would break. ‘Rachel, my darling, Rachel,” murmured a eda anseal voice, it Is you! Ob, God be praised!” the girl J 2 barply, en there was @ silence. Dr. Tremaine had Caught the *words very distinctly. He stood gmotionless, staring hard at the two figures standing so close together in the path. Grace pulled at his sleeve. Sy must not see us,” she whispered, and drew him quickly into the profound gloom of theeacacias, Z . He yielded, because he scarcely realized what she was doing. For a few seconds not a sound uld be heard save Rachel's smothered sobs. ut at last she raised her head. ‘Ob, why have you come back?” she asked, in a voice of tender reproach. ‘To see you, Rachel,” answered the stran- ger, eagerly, «& By, farting —my darling!” er 80 ‘“< glad to&ee bea othingly. “Are you not “Yes, yes. But—” fs But what, Rachel?” , You should not have come here, even to see me! It was too great a risk. Tt would kill me if anything were to happen to you.” _ Her sobs broke out afresh, and she kissed nim over and over agaiu with an abandonment of love and grief and despair almost frightful to witness, “Go away,” she cried, imploringly. “Go away before anybody sees you. J can scarcely breathe while you linger here.” “Go, and leave you, Rachel?” “Ay, leave me. Do you think Iam go ut- oe selfish that I would keep you here? No, o! : After a moment's silence the stranger said: “Tf I do go, I must see you very soon again.” “You shall, Only be cautious. Promise me that you will be cautious,” “‘T promise—for your sake.” “God bless you. There—there! Good-by.” She pushed him from her, hesitated a mo- ment, and then drew him back again, clinging more closely to him than ever, “Tt is thee poe A GIRD’S HEART. “Ob, I cannot let you go!” she moaned. “I cannot. My heart is breaking.” “Poor, poor Rachel!” “T have only you to love. The world would be very blank without you. How can I give you up? But I must—I must!” She sobbed so pitéously that he caught her in his arms and kissed her again and again. ‘‘Rachel, try to be patient,” he pleaded. “Have not I been patient? It will all come right by and by, perhaps, if we only trust the Lord. It is very bard to trust Him sometimes, when everything looks so desperate and gloomy—at least I have foundit so. But, He never does forsake us if we leanon Him. Iam trying todo that, and 1 want you to try, my darling.” ‘*T will—oh, I will!” she cried. 80 weak—so miserable.” “May He give you strength. Now I am “Only I am going. Comea little way with me—to the wicket down yonder. Will you?” "You? “Thank you. It seems so good to be with you again, and to know that you love me as well as ever.” “T shall always love you.” “T believe you will. Was it not sirange that I found you'so easily? God must have guided me. I thought you were at Madame Gale’s; I was going to you there when I heard the music—the same dear old pieces I used to love so well, I knew no one else could play them like that, and I crept into the grounds and saw you through the window. Then I screwled that note to you, and hid it in the bouquet of tuberoses, I knew you would think of me when you saw the tuberoses, darling.” Rachel made some low voiced answer. Then the pair began to move away. When the soft fall of their footsteps was lost in the distance Dr, Tremaine shook bimself, as if awakening from some frightful dream, He had not meant to listen, but had crouched in the shrubbery like one transfixed, Grace followed him into the path. ‘‘Tam very sorry I ever brought you here,” she said, deprecatingly.. ‘‘But how was I to know? Miss Clyde looked so wild and trou- bled. that. I feared she meant to do harm to herself. I ought to have guessed the truth from that bouquet, perhaps. Bui I did not,” ‘““We had no right to listen,” the doctor returned, coldly and constrainedly. ‘‘ We have overbeard what was never intended for our ears. I regret it very much, But the fault was as much mine as yours.” Then he relapsed into silence, only saying “ good-night” at the door, and going away quite abruptly, CHAPTER VII, SPINNING THE DEVIL'S YARN, RACHEL came down-stairs looking so pale and wav the next morning, that even Mrs. Heathcliff grew solicitous, ‘*T fear you are not happy with us, my child,” she said, speaking quite kindly. ‘‘If that is so, you have only to tell my husband. I know he would not detain you here against your wish,” “It is not that,” answered Rachel, eagerly; ‘indeed it is not.” Grace. was standing near, and a wicked smile curled her beautiful lips. But she said nothing. Colonel Heathcliff, too, observed the change in Rachel, and his languid blue eyes grew strangely troubled in their expression as he fixed them upon her face, ' “You are losing your roses,” he said, gently. “Ts it I who am stealing them away from you?” “Oh, no, no!” “What then? Is Fairlawn like a that you beat your wings against its bars?” “No,” she answered, softly. ‘I think I could be very happy here. I do not wish to go away while you need me.” He laughed softly to himself, and said, after & Dause: 4 oe Toe fo eee negcr SON ald +7 a <—e eve ft “Then you will remain here forever; but you must not make yourself ill nursing me. I shall not permit that.” Then, beckoning his wife to approach, he added; 10 “Tam going to send you both out fora wall. Take my word for it, you will come back re- freshed.” Mrs. Heathcliff bit’ her lip, and looked slightly displeased, but she instantly run: .or \ her hat and scarf. “My husband knows how to be very tyrannical, Miss Clyde,” she said; with a forced laugh. ‘‘We might as well yield at once.” She moved toward the door, waitin, for Rachel to follow. The girl arose with ex- treme reluctance. She would much sather have rensained. Mrs. Heathcliff was in a very gracious mood. She began talking glibiy when they were once in the open air. She selected the most public walks, and seemed determined to ex- tract its full enjoyment from the beautiful morning. Presently a man turned into the walk from one of the side paths.. He came straight toward them. Of course they had met scores of other men already during their brief ramble, but, somehow, this one excited Ra- chel’s curiosity. Mrs. Heathcliff was walking with her eyes fixed upon the ground. Though the man was coming straight toward them, and walki:ig in a hurried, nervous manner, calculated to excite suspicion, she took no notice of him untit they came face to face. Then she gianced up quickly, and came. toa sudden stand still. . Her features grsw con- vulsed, and she bit her lip fiercely. Some spasm of pain or fear or anguish seemed to shake her, whole body. ’ . ‘* You ?” she cried out, sharply. The exclamation was involuntary—wrung from her in the surprise and confusion of the moment. The man shrugged and smiled. © “Yes, Mrs. Heatheliff,” he replied, calmly. “ You were not expecting me?” — “cc No.” She rallied a little, stepped forward, and laid her hand on his arm. j “Tell me, Edward Dent,” she demanded, . “what brings you here?” He hesitated, glancing back at Rachel—a glance in which admiration and curiosity were singularly blended. “This young lady is a stranger to me, Mrs. Heathcliff. Exeuse me if I am not communi cative in her presence,” : These words were spokén in a voice. But softly asthey were uttered, Rachel caught them distinctly. She looked fixedly at the man a moment, then a shiver shook her frame. He was a great, loutish, ungainly fellow, with ridiculously long limbs, a thin, dark face, and a pair of small, twinkling, deep-set eyes, that burned under their bushy black brows like globes of. fire. Rachel shrunk from him with an instinctive feeling of re- pugnance. Mrs, Heathcliff had seen the man’s admir- ing look, as well as the look with which Rachel =. it. She smiled softly to herself, and Bald: . : “Mr. Dent, pray allow me :to present my young friend and protege, Miss Rachel Clyde,” ‘iit The man. started perceptibly. He gave Mrs. Heathcliff a quick glance, as if to assure himself she was not trifling with him. Then he doffed his hat somewhat awkwardly. “Ym sure this is a pleasure, miss,” stam- mered he, ‘It's always pleasant to meet any- body so young and beautiful, Besides, I knew your— ‘“‘ Hash!” cried Mrs, Heathcliff, sharply. She stepped quickly between the two. “Rachel,” she added, speaking in a tone of fuppressed excitement, ‘‘I think we: have walked far enough. Shall weturn back?’ “Tf you vlease, rnadam.” -
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= = .to follow her example. 8 “T do please. I’m tired and out of sorts. couldn’t go a step further.” : 's She turned, snatching Rachel’s hand as +he did so, and literally dragging her along the path by which they had come. Two or three long strides brought the man she had called Edward Dent to her side again. He looked down at her with a disagree- able smile. “This is not the way old friends should meet or part, Mrs, Heathcliff,” and he grinned, | sarcastically. She drew a quick breath, growing quite pale - with anger and terror. ‘* Forgive me,” she faltered. ‘I’m not well.” ‘‘Humph! Perhaps you are well enough to invite me to Fairlawn.” “To Fairlawn?’ “Yes, I am anxious to quarter myself there | for the present. Nay, don’t make any apolo- gies. Lam quite ready to take up with such accommodations as you have to offer.” He ended with another of those disagreeable smiles. -Mrs. Heathcliff shook from head to foot. But, with a strength of will worthy a better cause, she turned, aiter a brief silence, saying graciously ; “Of course you are very welcome. Pardon me for not having offered the hospitalities of Fairlawn sooner.” Then she fell back a little, signing for him The instant Rachel had passed beyond the reach of their voices she said, between her shut teeth: “What do you mean by’ coming her2, and forcing yours-lf upon us?” ““T came,” he answered, with a sneer, ‘‘be- cause it was my pleasure, and because a cer- | tain person in whom we are both interested is lurking somewhere in this neighborhood.” eried, with a shiver in her voice: | Mrs. Heathcliff started, stared wildly, and é temples. ‘Impossible! He is not here?” ‘‘T have every reason to believe that he is. He disappeared suddenly from his old haunts, | at least, and we could find no trace of him.” ‘* Would he dare cume this way?” . “He would dare anything. Such-another* reckless devil Imever saw. Of course I saw the necessity of following him.” ‘Of course,” she echoed, and then relapsed into silence. ‘ “ As to forcing myself upon you,” he added, presently, ‘‘to whom could I goin this emer- | geney, save to my very dear friend, Mrs. Heathcliff?” She suddenly clasped her fingers over. her ‘“*My husband,” she murmured. ‘ What shallI say to him? How explain your pres- ence in the house?” ‘“‘Humph! That is your concern. . You can say lam some relative, if you wish. I shall not contradict you.” au? She hesitated, gave him a quick, half-im- ploring glance, and finally said: © | “Why will you go to Fairlawn? There are hotels in the neighborhood. You might stop at one of those.” , ) “TY would rather not,” he answered, shrug- ging—an odd light coming into his flashing black eyes. “Ihave a reason for wishing to remain underneath your roof,” *¢ What reason?” His glance swept forward, rested upon Ra- chel’s trim, elegaué figure an instant, and then he replied: ; 4 Lovell”: ) Mrs. Heathcliff started as if she had been struck. She stared stupidly at him. “¢ Impossible!” “Tt.is true,” he said, coolly, ‘I don’t won- der you are surprised. It’s a case of love at first sight. Such things do happen, even at my time of life. Miss Clyde is pretty as a pic- ture. I’m really quite smitten with her.” He was dead in earnest—there could be no doubt of that. Mrs. Heathcliff looked thought- ful. She clasped and unclasped her hands several times, in a nervous manner. At last she turned to her companion with an expres- sion of unmistakable relief upon hor face. A GIRL'S HEART. glad ‘you have taken a fancy to the girl, It will save me a world of trouble, perhaps, for I know you will never daré to play me false. | You shall marry her!” “Shall 1” he laughed. ‘Perhaps she will not marry me.” . * She shall be made to marry you,” answer- ed Mrs. Heathcliff, compressing her lips sternly. CHAPTER VIII. THE HEART’S CRY. | Mr. Epwarp Dent was installed at Fair- lawn as an honored gucst. Colonel Heathcliff made no attempt to conceal his surprise at the visit, but he treated him with uniform courte- sy and politeness. ‘““You will find Edward very eccentric,” Mrs. Heathcliff had said to her husband, at the outset. “But I know you will be kind to him for my sake.” “Certainly,” the colonel made answer. ‘You say he is a relative?’ ‘She hesitated, flushed a little, and replied: “A cousin, on my mother’s side.” “‘T never heard you speak of him.” “No. I used to see him sometimes, when a child. But we had not met for many years, I had almost forgotten him.” Colonel Heathcliff looked thoughtful. ‘“‘T hope he has not degenerated any in ail these years,” he said, after a pause. **T don’t know. Ican only tell you that he is very rich. He seems to have made money | rapidly. He may leave it all te Grace if we are kind to him.” “True, my dear. You may rest assured I shall do nothing to blast. Grace’s hopes in that ' direction.” | And so Mr. Edward Dent, in spite of his | innate coarseness and vulgarity, and the sus- | picious suddenness of his appearance among | them, became domiciled in the household. Perhaps Rachel was the only person who really suffered because of his presence in the ‘house. But his manner toward herself filled her with alarm and uneasiness. He rarely sought the chamber where Colonel Heathcliff still lay, rapidly recovering from his bruises. But the girl could not stir outside the sacred precincts of that room with- out encountering him. He followed her into the garden, if she went there for a breath of fresh air or a little ‘exercise. If she sought the music-room, he was by her sidein an instant. In the spacious parlors she could never be free from the an- noyance of his presence. The nature of his attentions could scarcely be mistaken. He was ludicrously devoted and loverlike, considering the shortness of their acquaintance. Rachel was not even civil to him, for she could not conceal the disgust a4d -abhorrence he inspired. | The girl would have been very unhappy but for the pleasure she experienced in Colonel | | wants, Dr. Tremaine came to Fairlawn frequent- ly. But a strange coldness had crept into his manner toward Rachel. He manifested a reluctance to seek her society that cut her to the heart. One day he came in and found her alone in the drawing-room. With ordinary polite- ness, he could do no less than linger to say a few words to her. In the midst of their con- versation the door was thrust open, and Mr. | Dent looked in. “Ah!” he said, frowning a little, at sight of Dr. Trefnaine. “You are engaged, Miss Clyde? I have something particular to say to you.” | His manner gave emphasis tohis words. He advanced slowly into the apartment. Rachel grew very white, and clung involuntarily to the arm of her companion. _ Take me away,” she whispered. ‘To the garden—any where-so that we escape that man!” a. oe ee ee Good!” she exclaimed. “I believe I’m Dr. Tremaine’s arm slid about her waist. He led her toward the door, looking very stern and. resolute. “Let us pass, if you please,” he said, for Mr, Dent had halted directly in their way. The man hesitated an instant. Something ' of rage and hatred mingled in the dark vil- lainy of his countenance, But he caught the sudden fire that leaped into Dr. Tremaine’s eyes, and wisely drew back. “Certainly, sir,” he said, with an awk- ward bow. ‘I did not know you were going out,” “We are.” He knitted his brow, and returned, speaking in a very low voice: “T must beg an interview with Miss Clyde when she is at liberty.” Dr. Tremaine passed out, making no re- sponse. He led Rachel to the conservatory. The door stood open, and she looked so white and frightened that he dared take her no fur- ther. “You are ill,” he said, gently, drawing up a stool in the shadow of the vines. ‘“ We will wait here until your are better. Or do you wish me to summon assistance?” ‘No, no,” she answered, hastily. leave me,” She was shaking from head to foot. After a little she grew calmer. “T know you think me very foolish,” she murmured, with a faint smile. ‘“ Nothing ails me. I was only frightened.” ‘Mr, Dent frightened you?” ** Yes,” she answered reluctantly. “You donot like that man?’he went on, giving her a swift glance, She shuddered, and slowly shook her head, “Tam glad of that,” and a strange earnest- ness seemed to creep into his manner. “I have been watching him, Miss Clyde. I am sure he cannot be trusted. I would be very sorry if you were to make a friend of him.” He stopped abruptly, moved away a few steps, and presently came back again. “Would to heaven, Rachel,” he cried out, in fierce, eager voice, “that I had the right to shield you!” The words seemed to have been wrung from him in the anguish and delirium of the moment. He had paused before her with his gleaming eyes fixed upon her face, his own handsome features being strangely convulsed. Rachel started. A flush swept up to her temples. She put out her hands deprecatingly. ‘Oh, Dr. Tremaine!” she faltered. ~ : Her voice failed her with these words. She clasped her hands over her brow, glaring at him wildly, and seeming to shrink within her- self as if pained or shocked by what had hap- pened. , It was only the natural action of a pure- “ Don’t ‘ hearted girl, under the circumstances. She thought she had been bold, unmaidenly. It suddenly occurred to her that she had brought about this interview—Dr. Tremaine had not Heathcliff’s society and attending upon his | soa | Perhaps his great pity was prompting the words be uttered! She felt stunned, humiliated. She could not speak, but she moved slightly away from him. ‘ A bitter smile curled Dr, Tremaine’s hand- some lip as he observed his action. Of course he entirely misapprehended her motive. ‘‘Forgive me,” he said, looking very pale, and speaking rapidly, ‘‘I have no right to pain you. I will not. My secret shall lio buried in my heart, where it has lain for many days already.” She glanced up at him at that. How white and miserable he looked! Oh, if she only could—if she only dared tell him what was passing in her heart! But, her lips were dumb, moaned, but that was all. ; “ I think I was mad for one brief moment,” She moved, he went on. “TI had seen that villain’s perse- cutions, and longed to shield you. I could not see you suffer, But I knew, all th e, you
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{ = could never love me—that your affectioris were given to another.” | b? vi She started, stared more wildly than before, and suddenly recovered her voice. ‘“‘ Another?” she gasped. “Forgive me for having surprised your se- cret,” he said. ‘It was the result of acci- dent.” “ What do you mean?” He looked fixedly at her a moment, and then made answer; “This love of which I spoke. I think you have reasons for keeping it a secret.” She began to comprehend what he meant. A sudden flame swept over her face, and then receded, leaving it pale and cold. She sat with her hands locked in her lap, in a man- ner that told of suppressed passion. “God help me,” she murmured. He stooped over her suddenly. ‘touched her hair. “God help you, and God bless you!” he ex- claimed. He turned, moving slowly toward the door. Rachel glanced after him, pitcously, helplessly —a glance that must have broken down all barriers, had he only seen it. But he did not. He moved further and fur- ther away. Auother moment, and the door would have been closed between them, Rachel could bear the anguish of parting no longer. She flung out her hands wildly. ‘Come back—come back!” she faltered, “TI shall die if you leave me. Come back, and I will tell you all!” The words did not reach his ears, but he caught the murmur of her voice. He hesi- tated, turned, and darted to her side. ‘Oh, my darling,” he whispered, ‘‘I can- not leave you!” He stooped as if to gather her into his arms. A soft, gliding footstep, and the sharp rustling of silk, reached his ears at the samé moment. He drew back and waited. The door opened quickly, and Grace Ather- ton came gliding into the conservatory. His lips CHAPTER IX, THE BAFFLED BEAUTY. GRACE paused near the threshold, evidently startled by the unexpected tableau that met her gaze, The rich color forsook lip and cheek, She elerched her teeth involuntarily, It was im- possible to mistake the meaning of that scene. For an instant she leaned giddily against tho wall, with the mask torn utterly from her pallid face, and her secret soul laid bare. Then she rallied. Forcing a smile to her lips, she advanced a little further into the con- servatory. Around her was fragrance and beauty and riotous bloom; green vines trailing from _pil- ps and aed flowers bursting into gorgeous oom, with the summer sunlight lying warm and golden over all. se pe. She could never bear the sight of flowers afterward, and some odors turned her sick. “Pardon me,” she said, softly. “I th the conservatory was deserted, he ple oe pie held out his hand, ‘ came to make my ecustop is Atherton,” he said, with gehts digeity: aes am glad to have met you,” f She bowed in acknowledgment, lo ‘ at Rachel, who sat pale and iiewats ice shadow of an oleander, and knitted her brows as if at a loss whether to go or Stay. : _ Rachel saved her the trouble of a decision by rising abruptly and moving away with a sluw uncertain step. Grace called after her: “Mr. Dent is waiting for you. You will find him in the front parlor. I promised to send you to him.” Rachel’s reply was inarticulate. the door and fled across the hall and up the stairs, never pausing to take breath until she | had reached ber own room, and the door was securely locked against all intruders. Then she flung herself on the couch sobbing 7 “eae Pi ile bee ss & She closed. 5 A GIRL’S HEART. _and wringing her hands as if her very heart “Dr, Tre- |. would break. “Tt is all over,” she moaned. maine will think me cold and ungrateful, and ob, my heart is bursting with the wretchedness of it all!” She scarcely thought of Mr. Dent, except to wonder how she could best avoid him. Grace, meanwhile, was standing under a delicate arch of vines, covertly scanning Dr. Tremaine’s grave face, and idly pulling a rose to pieces. She was wondering just how far this wooing had gone, and what had been the result of it. “Rachel seems wonderfully favored,” she said, presently, forcing a light laugh. ‘Jt would astonish you to learn how many are bowing at her shrine,” , “ Indeed?” he answered, coldly. “Yes. Mr. Dent is quite infatuated. He follows her like a shadow. And even papa Heathcliff thinks her incomparable.” She paused fora reply, but as none came, she added: “You are as familiar as I am w'th the events of that night when she met the stranger in the garden. Of course he was a lover. I won- der, Dr. Tremaine,” lifting her eyes with an arch, penetrating glance, ‘‘if you will not be the next victim.” He smiled and shrugged. “‘Forewarned is forearmed, Miss Ather- ton.” She bit her lip. This was scarcely the an- swer she had expected. “T hope you don’t think I.am warning you against Miss Clyde?’ she exclaimed. “‘Oh, no,” with another shrug, that puzzled her more than the first bad done, “It was only an unlucky jest. Forget it. I admire Rachel quite as much as anybody else | does.” Then she changed the subject abruptly, and fell to talking of other things. But Dr. Tre- maine did not linger many minutes. Though |@ woman of rare beauty and _ fascination, she had not the power to hold him at. her side, She felt this, and stood, fairly livid with rage, by the hall window, watching his de- parture. “Has it come to this?” she hissed, through her close-set teeth. ‘‘Have I really given my heart, with all its richness of affectten, un- sought, unwelcome?” It was a terrible reflection for the haughty beauty. , Suddenly a step stirred beside her. Looking round, she met Mr. Dent’s thin, sneering face bent close to her own, “It isn’t pleasant to love, and love in vain,” he said, smiling disagreeably. She retreated a step or two, flashing him a’ haughty glance, “Do you speak from your own experience, Mr. Dent?” “Perhaps,” he answered, biting an angry lip. _ ‘‘ Let us condole with each other.” “Excuse me, I have no occasion,” He laughed aloud. ‘Excuse me, Mivs Atherton; but I happen to know better.” “Sir!” she cried, with a stamp, and gleam- ing eyes. . He stood before her quite still, but with a cruel smile upon his lips. He seemed nowise daunted by her anger. ‘*Compose yourself, my .dear. It is not of the slightest use to fall into a passion with me.” She gasped fur breath. ‘ Insolent!” she exclaimed. ‘‘How dare you? I sball tell papa Heathcliff. He will order you from the house.” “Take my advice and speak to your mo- ther in the first place. I will leave Fair- Jawn avy moment that she sees fit to dismiss me.” His coolness exasperated her. It was the coolness of conscious power. And there was something alarming in bis words themselves. She had half suspected that he had some | Sharp, close scrutiny. i) Now she was sure hold -upon- her mother. of it. . She tried to compose herself; but her face was white, and she trembled a little, It seem- ed terrible to be at the mercy of this coarse, cruel man. * Tell me what you mean by following me here?” she demanded. His eyes fixed themselves upon her face in | “To condole with you. I knew the state of; your affectioas; and I wished to give you an assurance,” ‘‘ What assurance?” “Dr, Tremaine will never marry Rachel. | Clyde.” ' | She started; to her wild stare he replied. with a low laugh. ‘‘ Who is to prevent it?’ she asked, ‘ee I am,” “ How?’ “That is my secret, Ask me no questions, You will know :von enough, Oxly be assured that I have s; oken well.” He turned slowly, moved toa little distance, and then came back again. ‘Where is Rachel?” he demanded. “She went up-stairs, I think.” * Could you send her to me?” “T doubt if she would come,” “ True,” bh He lookei down at he:, frowning darkly. At last he burst into a hoarse laugh 5 “Rachel has a will of ker own,” he mut- tered. “No matter. I admire a woman of spirit. Ican bide my time.” Grace shivered with a chill, but finally found voice to ask: “ What will you do?” “Marry the girl myself, and so take her out of harm’s way for good.” He rubbed the palms of his hands together, Y chuckling softly to himself, as he said this, Grace felt the very blood in her veins run. : cold, he looked so dark, stern, diabolical—a very Lucifer. His presence made her nervous. She could endure it no longer. Turning she fled swiftly - up the stairs. | “‘ Heaven pity poor Rachel if she falls inte that man’s clutches,” she murmured, her heart melting in momentary pity. . CHAPTER X. eS A DREAD ALTERNATIVE. Mr. Epwarp Dent did not seem to rest wvs]] that night—or, rather, he did not rest at ab. ‘ 1 After the lamps were lighted he haunted the parlors, wandering through them like some perturbed spirit doomed to linger on the spot where its transgressions would continually present themselves in the most hideous as- t, He sought Mrs, Heatheliff for a brief inter-. view, in the library, and when that was end-— ed went back to his old promenade through vhe richly-furnished apartments, Eleven o’clock found him smoking a cigar on the veranda. By this time the house was still. Nearly everybody had retired, for they kept early hours at Fairlawn. Suddenly the hall door was softly opened, and a dark figure crept noiselessly toward the terrace steps. Mr. Dent quickly extinguished his cigar, and leaned further back ir‘: ' shadow, fervently praying that the smell of the smoke might not betray his proximiiy. A dark, sinister smile was on his lip, for he had recognized the figure at a glance. *‘And so my dainty Rachel takes midnizht rambies,” he muttered. ‘It does not surpri e me,” Then, with the ferocious eagerness of a pmn- ther, he slid into the purple gloom of the roses, syringas and rhododendrons, and stealthily fol- lowed that softly-gliding figure. eet _ Toward the lower end of the garden Rachel made her way, and Mr. Dent, stealing along | in the shadows and perfumed gloom, never once lost sizht of her. y erat pM aa bs ca POSS EES LSS Sa ee Fe om yy C ref < rite eae See Kal am cet Tt Nhat deka a ee ~7 T al F0) wn 7, as ope eer
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) At last sho paused near a wicket. It was ‘a flung eagerly open, and a young man caught ber in his arms, and covered her lips with kisses. i: ‘My darling,” he cried, “‘I am so glad you “," have come,” r “Are you? muttered Mr. Edward Dent, e glaring ferociously upon the pair from his | hiding-place. ‘And I’m glad you’ve come, my precious young rascal, for I have an ac- 5 ‘count to settle with you.” ef - We made no attempt to approach any near- er, but seemed content to cower there and ‘watch them. They talked for a long time, | -‘yery earnestly. Rachel seemed to be pleading . With her companion, but only an occasional word reached the ears of the watcher. He heard enough, however, to know that Rachel feared for the young man’s safety, and are was urging him to leave the neighborhood as 4 ckly as possible. z : wer last the interview ended. There was a r long embrace, a kiss, a choking down of sobs, and the pair ‘Rachel crept feebly toward the house, all un- o conscious of the eyes that were upon her—the ‘footsteps that kept time to her own. She lift- -__ @d the latch, and went slowly into the hall. A dim light was burning there. She paused a moment, holding fast to the oaken balusters, } so overcome that she could go no further. Her strength seemed utterly to have left her. _ She heard the door softly open and close -—‘sgain—the hall door by ‘which she had just entered. She did not turn or look back, but. the sound went straight to her heart. She TF, - stood as if transfixed, frozen to the spot with ae an awful terror. . af A muffled step approached. ox _ “Rachel! whispered a hoarse voice that she -_ , knew only too well. ‘(Reh She rallied sufficiently to raise her eyes, Ed- ward Dent was standing beside her, with his | Sheering face bent toward her own. ae Bhe did not shriek or cry out. The ex- _ tremity of terror that possessed her was too 7 great for that. But she stood glaring at him with great, wide-open eyes full of dumb agony and appeal, It needed no word of his to tell her that he had witnessed the interview in the garden. She seemed to know instinctively the calamity _ that had befallen her. “Rachel,” he whispered, bending over her— and he looked like some demon in the uncer- _ tain light, with his gleaming eyes, his dark- _ ly-villainous face, and great, hulking, ungain- ly figure—‘‘Rachel, you see how helpless you are, and you know my power.. Let me warn you to take care.” i _ She shivered, struggled a moment with her- self, and at last found voice, { _, “Don’t touch me,” she moaned. ‘ For God’s sake, don’t touch me.” zs _ He laughed low and mockingly. . “Poor fool. As if there were contamina- ime: See ne en ee ot oe iat ah ube oo ony eg Pane ff t= ~ of Tot, A Soe tion in my touch. Misfortunes a thousand Peer ty times worse might happen to you.” ss ‘The words seemed to rouse her alittle. Sha straightened up, gasping for breath. ay “« What are you going to do?” she asked, is 7 “T have come to no decision,” ath’ You will not harm him ? You dare not!” _'---- §he seemed to forget her fear and aversion pees : fora moment. Turning, she clung to his arm, e's and looked up eagerly into his cruel face. _ - -Big arm‘ slid about her waist in a half-caress. Rachel,” he cried, thickly, ‘‘how beautiful - -youare! But you were never more fascinat- ing than you are to-night.” : She flung off his arm, and shrunk awa from him, moaning piteously. aay “Don’t trie with me. Iam not strong, I cannot bear it, For God’s sake have a little mercy.” ‘The appeal did not touch him. He stood staring at her with gloating eyes. She was in his toils, this sweet, marveiously-beautiful ‘was made—nothing short of a miracle could _ gave her from him. _ “You asked me dust now what I was going ~ POLY Kyi 0 ‘ Nos 4 Cou t By | to do,” he said, after a ‘pause, “That will de- A GIRL'S HEART. | pend wholly upon yourself.” _ “Upon me?’ Yas “Yes. Listen. I am not an impressible man, in general. But your beauty went | straight to my heart. I loved you the first time Isaw you. Iam not handsome and cul- tured like Dr. Tremaine. But a heart quite passionate as his throbs in my bosom,” He paused a moment, gave her a swift | glance, and then went ony “That heart is filled with your image, Ra- Chel. I have longed to tell you so before, but | you never gave me the opportunity. You | would not see me to-day. You have been very | cruel,” He seemed to wait for a reply of some sort. The girl turned her white, haggard face away from him. She reeled giddily, no longer able to support herself.- He brought a chair, seated her in it, and then resumed: “T love you too well to give you up—bet- ter than I had deemed it possible to love any woman. You have come between me and am- bition—duty. But I fling them both to the winds, and cling only to you. I would make any sacrifice for your sake—any save to give youup. Test me.” A strong, deep shudder was her only answer. She must have known what he meant, but would not speak. “That man you met in the grounds, just now,” he said, breaking the silence that fell. “‘ Has he told you what I know of him?” She nodded her head. “‘He told me to-night. fore.” “You knew he was in trouble of some sort?’ “T did.” She seemed to be choking with suppressea sobs for a moment. Growing calmer, at last, she added: ‘‘He has no secrets from me—the brave, true fellow. But I did not know until to- night that you were mixed up in his af- fairs.” “‘Humph!” A crafty smile curled his thin | lip. “I think we can now arrive at an under- standing, Miss Rachel. That man is in my power, and you know it. I could place him within the walls of a prison before to-morrow’s sun shall set.’ ‘‘ But you will not,” she cried, falling on her knees at his feet. “For God’s sake promise me you will not,” “His fate is in your hands.” ; ‘In mine? Then he shall live—live!” Her voice arose toa hysterical shriek. She burst into a passionate flood of tears, that shook her whole body. ‘*What would you do for him?’ demanded Mr. Dent’s celd voice. **T would give my own life for his.” “Tt is not a lifeIlask. You can save himin one way—only one.” To her wild stare ha replied with a wicked laugh. ‘“You do not understand me, Rachel. me speak more plainly. If you wish tosave that man, you must become my wife.” ‘“‘Never!” she cried, reeling in her chair, as if from a blow. “Very well,” he replied, with the same fixed smile, ‘ His blood be upon your head!” | ‘You can save him, and you will not. Oh, monster!” : “Tt is you who must make the sacrifice— not L.” | as I did not know be- | “ He would scorn to accept it.” ‘¢ You must not leave him to choose,” She clasped her fingers over her temples; she felt as if she must be going mad. ‘‘ Will nothing else satisfy you?’ “ Nothing.” *T have friends here who will help me to save him,” . “They cannot,” he sneered. “His fate lies in my hands—and yours, Askhim. He will tell you so.” She sat for a moment as if stunned, She ‘] * , Ma ay St ‘ / nd, Wise <0 i ‘ rf sa SEEN ECON Roget Revere gtr ea Bt ee eS | joked. ghost, All the bright, rich color had , vanished from her face, leaving it whiter than At last she arose, feebly; she moved again to the staircase, slowly and with difficulty, as if she had suddenly grown old. . *T am helpless,” she said. ‘‘ For his sake I must be your victim. But T warn you to de- sist. Ishall hate you—hate you with a bitter- er hatred than that I cherish now.” . He changed color at the words. and the look she gave him. | I know you do not carefor me, Rachel. Your affections are wrapped up in another. But time will work achange. You will learn to think of me as you ought.” * Never!” **But you promise to become my wife?” he demanded, fiercely. ‘¢T promise.” ° She could sayno more. Even these words were scarcely articulate. She glided, ghost- like, up the stairs, and the darkness shut her in Left alone, Mr, Dent took a hasty turn up and down the dimly-lighted hall, “She is mine—mine!” he muttered, a smile dark orbs; but Mrs. Heathcliff could only stare Let | of triumph mingling in the dark villainy of his countenance. CHAPTER XI. A STRANGE WOMAN’s VOW. TEN o’clock had struck before Rachel came down-stairs the next morning. _ She was missed from the breakfast-table, and Mrs. Heathcliff sent up a solicitous mes- sage. Mr. Dent, who occupied his usual place, smiled slightly to himself at his hostess’ well- feigned concern, and sat, with his eyes fixed upon his plate, until the servant had with- drawn. Then he said: “T beg you will not alarm yourself about Miss Clyde. She will do very well without her breakfast. Engaged young ladies are one proverbial for the voracity of their appe- “Instantly two pairs of eyes were fixed upon his face. A sudden fire flashed into Grace’s her amazement. ““What mean you?” she cried. Still smiling, still wonderfully self-composed, he made answer: “You must have seen the turn affairs were taking. Surely I need not speak more plainly?’ “You must speak plainly if you expect moe to understand you at all.” “Eh?” shrugging his shoulders, whimsically. T hoped you would me the ordeal of confession. In two words, then, Rachel Clyde has promised to marry me!” _ Mrs. Heathcliff gave a sudden start, and her face flushed crimson. : ‘Promised to marry you?” she echoed. “Yes, Break the news to Colonel Heath- | cliff, if you please, Iam inno mood to con- front bim.” He rose, abruptly, as he spoke, and crossed to the window, where he stood, idly drumming on the pane, ; A brief interval passed. Grace left the i room; then Mrs. Heathcliff glided up to Mr. Dent, and dropped her jeweled hand on his .| shoulder. ‘‘Edward,” she whispered, in a hoarse voice, ‘you have succeeded beyond my expectations, if you havereally wrung from Rachel a pro- mise to become your wife.” “Bah!” he sneered. ‘Do you think I am trifling with you?” ““No; you would not dare /” “* Perhaps not.” “IT know you would not, Tell me how you have accomplished your object.” ‘Excuse me,” he answered, bobbing and. . “If you were to find the philoso- pher’s stone, would you babble the secret to everybody you met?” ‘3 She bit the blood from her lip, but was silent. It were not well to anger him, NO 4 mt ™ ‘ } Pay te ot . .
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A GIRL’S Siege eee eS sh wid « ‘Go now,” he added, ‘‘and face the dragon for me. You know I am not particularly fond of your delectable husband. This mar- riage must be pushed as rapidly as possible.” “é Yes. ” “And you must help me push it.” He shot her a swift glance. She changed color, slightly, but replied: “Of course you can depend upon my. in- fluence.” Speaking thus, she turned, and slowly glided from the room. When Rachel made her appearance at ten o'clock, she went directly to Colonel Heath- eliff’s apartment. In the great horror that had 80 suddenly risen to confront her, she longed to tell him, and throw herself upon his com- passion, She could not see how he could help her. case was entirely beyond his surgery. But she felt that his sympathy would be very sweet, He was sitting in an easy-chair by the win- dow, very pale, very languid, but surely re- covering from his illness. He looked up, as she Ph and asad smile curved his handsome ps. ““My poor child,” he murmured, and indica- . ted a stool at her feet. She took it, trembling all over. Oh, how could she tell him all the pain and anguish she was enduring? How could she force a confes- sion to her reluctant lips? For some seconds not a word was spoken. At last her eyes crept up to his; she read some- thing strange, piercing, eager in the glance h_ gave her, “You know it all,” she cried out, sharply. ‘Some. one has told you!” atid eos her hair. me one has told me a very singular sto: Rachel. But I will not beliove it.” i She shuddered, hid her face, and exclaimed: “Tt is true—oh, my God!—it is true!” “You are going to marry Edward Dent?” ° “T have given him my promise,” This was all the poor, quivering lips could rg Even these words were scarcely articu- Colonel Heathcliff saw the frightful pallor that was on her face. He saw her tremble aa writhe: with anguish, and it maddened “You shall never marry that man!” he cried, fiercely, rising in his chair, ‘The eat. villain! I know you do not love “No, no, no!” _ “Then you shall not be his victim! I will ont be P be: myself. What do you ‘ow of him othing. He is old enough to be ed father!” Bs chel sprung forward, clinging to his Miawi was Se 1 Ob; ae id !” she implored. ‘Ove you as though you were my own ; shority r. Let me exercise a father’s au- He kissed her forehead, wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, then gently pushed her from bim, you do?” she cried out, sud- “ What would denly, for he had moved from his chair and was reaching for the bell-ro “Send for Mr. Dent, and tell him here, in your presence, that you will not be permitted to keep a promise forced from you,” * “Qk, no, no! You must not do that!” She caught his hand, dragging it down again, For a moment she had forgotten everything else in the sweet solace of his sympathy. But this movement on his part brought her to her senses, nea, ie ret be helped,” she moaned, “TJ v6 piedged my word. It must be ke wintebes's cost.” e nn ‘, That is a foolish scruple. Let me ring.” ‘No, no, no,” she cried, so earnestly that he desisted, and sunk back wearily in the chair from which he had risen. _ “T don’t like that man,” he muttered, “He _is full of low canning and trickery. Oh, Ra- 4 eh : Rone Li Sas, A Ud i ‘4 2 a oS fn | 4 AE trary atl Mel? eel’ ri 45 oe St i See ed “. iy’ ce oe Mg AO abs: HEART. chel, you must not go on with this wicked farce! ; She closea her eyes for a moment, drawing back with such a white, set face that he feared she would faint, ‘‘I am very unhappy,” she said, speaking in a low, hoarse whisper. ‘It would be a mercy if I could die this moment.” “*Oh; Rachel!” “It would,” she went on, wearily. ‘You do not know the whole truth. There are rea- sons why I must marry Edward Dent. There is no escape for me. I know it—I feel it You can only pity me. All the rest lies with God.” “Reasons?” he echoed, catching eagerly at that single word. She bowed her head. “T was sure of it! It all seems very strange and horrible. I knew there must be some mys- tery. Tell me all about it, my child.” He spoke so kindly, so very gently that she must have yielded had not the door been thrust open abruptly at this instant. It was Madame Gale who entered. Her dark face seemed convulsed. Her eyes were full of fire, and a red spot flamed in either cheek, “Rachel,” she cried out sharply, “I want you.” She shot Colonel Heathcliff a swift glance in passing, then caught the girl’s hand, and drag- ged her into the hall outside the-door. ‘What is this I hear?’ she then demanded, imperiously. ‘Tell me at once, child. Have you pledged yourself to this stranger, to this wretch who calls himself Edward Dent?’ Rachel bent her head, and answered: “T have.” Madame gave a sharp little cry. It was full of anger and fury. “This is Pauline’s work! She has some ob- ject to accomplish. She is forcing you to wed that man!” “No,” answered Rachel, “Mrs. Heathcliff has nothing to do withit. I have made my own choice.” ‘‘Faugh!’ looking at her with a black, witch- like stare. ‘‘De you think to deceive me? Would you make me believe you love that vil- lain?” “T must him.” ‘‘Fool!” shrieked madame, shaking her fist wildly in the air. She suddenly grew calm again. Her stern face softened. Perhaps the anguish expressed in the abject attitude and burning eyes of the young girl had touched her heart. At any rate she stooped suddenly and kissed her cheek, **My child,” she said, in a low voice, looking all around, ‘‘I have been a stern, hard guar- lian. You have never found me sympathetic or generous. You have been wronged and ill- used from first to last. But, as God hears me, I have loved you through it all, and I love you now.” She gasped, hesitated. Rachei drew back a ittle, staring hard at her. She was startled. She saw a change in Madame Gale, but knew not what to make of it. For the moment it brought no relief—only increased her distress, “Tye made up my mind to stand by you,” madame went on, in that same odd way, and with that same odd expression upon her fea- tures. ‘It was a struggle, but I cannot see you suffer. Whoever seeks to harm you here- after will have to answer to me.” CHAPTER XII TRYING TO SEE IN THE DARK. Mapamn’s lips closed together sharply. She stood quite silent, eying Rachel with a mean- ing scowl that had something of real kindaess behind it. Tie girl’s face flushed suddenly. In spite of the misery she was in, hope wakened into new life in her bosom—she scarcely knew why. “Oh,” she cried, “I am sure you can help me if anybody can! You will—promise me you will?” ties moved at all. i Eee ag EAR Madame grinned, turned sharply, and swept Rey et ‘Bah! Have I not promised already?” She knitted her brows, and stood rubbing her yellow hands together. She was evidently at a loss. ‘ Py “ Why do you think I can help you?” she de- manded, presently. ; « Because—because—” “Because what, you silly child?” Rachel gathered courage, and finally went on, incoherently: “Tt has just occurred to me! Perhaps I. cannot make you comprehend. But there is some mystery. You, Madame Gule, are mixed up in it. So is Mrs. Heathcliff. You both know something of me which you are unwill- ing to tell.” Madame laughed shrilly, and said: ** Go on.” “There is some secret understanding be tween Mrs. Heathcliff and Mr. Dent. Don’t stare and shake your heud; I know there is. You may be mixed up in that mystery, too. I don’t know—things are terribly jangled. But if you are, [am sure you can set every- thing right, somehow, so that I will not be compelled to marry that dreadful man,” She paused to take breath. Her eager eyes were upon madame’s face. She seemed to be trying to read her through and through. “Tts all a mistake,” said madame, dryly. “YT don’t know anything about Mr. Dent. You're a cunning little thing, but this time you have made a mistake. You have, in-— deed.” " Rachel clasped her fingers over her temples. “Then I am lost!” she heavily against the wall. : Madame stood scowling and thinking. At last she moved a little and laid her great hand upon the back of Rachel. ‘‘Tell me why you are going to marry Mr. Dent,” she said. . ; The girl writhed, hesitated, and glanced fearfully up and down the passage. Finally she whispered a few words close to madame’s ear. the witch-like old woman recoiled sharply. “Just Heaven!” she cried, ‘‘is he here?” “Hush!” whispered Rachel, warningly. | “You will not betray him? Oh,I know you dare not.” “No, I shall not betray him.” Ciaae There followed a brief silence. Madame broke it. “And so it is to save him that you have # promised to marry Mr. Dent?” : “ct Yes. ” % J ‘“‘Humph!” she grunted, with a grimace, ‘““What a precious fool. you are! I mover dreamed of that.” Then she added: 5 ere “‘T begin to understand this Mr. Dent a little ~ better. Pauline is a hyprocrite. She should moaned, leaning | “ta They must have been startling words, for — al she aa. 5 eet 2 ey eee te. ¥ a ota have told me; but she did not. Bah! it is no ta ‘ longer n Rachel tried to speak, but could not. She So much— so very — was quivering all over. much—depended upon that interview. ‘“‘ Have you no mere to say to me?” demand- ed madame, after a pause. She gasped four words in reply: “*Can—you—save—me?” Madame knitted her brows again, frowning __ a little, and finally made answer: “T don’t know. I’m sorry he—you know | whom I mean—is mixed upin this affair. But you would not desert him even to save your-— self—don’t take the trouble to shake your head—I know without that you would not.” Then, eying Rachel sternly all round, she demanded: ‘¢ Why has he not shown himself fio me?” ‘*Perhaps he was afraid to do so.” ‘‘Humph!” grunted madame. ‘‘No matter, Now go, child. I willdo whatIcan for you. | Fi And you must try to trust me more fully than ~ you have done before.” - Though strangely sick at heart, Rachel tried to nod assent, but her stubborn head scarcely — ff a j: ashy #3 a
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42 rustling into the apartment where Colonel | Heathcliff was sitting. Rachel moved slowly down the passage. When she reached the main hal, everything seemed to blur before her eyes, of a sudden. Her limbs tottered, and there was a ringing in her ears. She pushed open the nearest door, and staggered to a seat. It was the library she had entered. A fig- | ure rose up from the obscurity of the remote portion of the apartment. Rachel heard a quick, firm step, and struggled hard with the deathly lethargy that see:med to be stealing away her senses. She looked up. , Dr. Tremaine was coming toward her, al- most as pallid and agitated as herself. His sudden appearance was like a shock. It aroused her from the faintness and stupor that | _ had beset her. ““What has happened?” he cried, pausing at her side, and speaking in a low, deep tone that thrilled her strangely. “Nothing,” she stammered. Sar ‘“‘- You are ill,” he persisted. “No, no. It was a sudden faintness. See, lI am better now.” The color was coming back to her cheeks, | _ the light to her eyes. The mere enchantment | of his presence had wrought the change. _ “Yes,” he murmured, ‘“‘you are growing more like yourself again.” #70 He hesitated, with his eyes fixed eagerly upon her face. A torrent of words seemed to an choke his utterance. Giving way to them at -—-- Jast, he cried out, sharply: “*Qh, Rachel, I cannot give you up. I can- not keep away from you! Something more powerful than my own will draws me to your > side. I know itis wrongand wicked. I know - -T am weak, foolish, beside myself! But you % tay bear with me, and let my great love plead my excuse?” Rachel turned away her face at those burn- ' ing words, pained, startled, grieved. _. Qh, hush, hush!” she moaned. “Do I only add to the burden you carry?” he asked, reproachfully. ‘It is hard—it is - -yery hard. I would die for you.” | “Hush!” she whispered again, in a heart- broken voice. 4 Will you not listen? God help me! Do you know I gathered hope from your manner | _-when last wemet I thought my fears might _ ” alll have been groundless, and you were free to return my love.” She clasped her hands and a slight moan es- | caped her lips. Was I wrong?’ he pleaded, passionately. . *T must know. Was I wrong in thinking you might learn to love me?” J eannot be your wife,” she answered. | ss He caught his breath sharply. An expres- gion of blank dismay settled upon his face. ‘ “Forgive me,” he'said. 3, gem The hopeless resignation of his tone went straight to her heart, She threw out her rey . He caught her eovered it with impetuous kisses, 4 3¢ that barrier is not love for another, I -_ qpill. surmount it,” he exclaimed, eyes and face allaflame. _ Rached sighed drearily. “J¢ is my promise to another, Dr, Tre- maine.” : He started, growing paleagain. He thought = of that night in the garden, when he_had seen ‘her clasped close to another man’s. heart. | "What did it all mean?) What was this mys-_ tery? Was she playing with him—leading him | on while ‘her affections were bound up in an- other f te _ “A promise?” he repeated, hoarsely. ‘Have you promised to wed another?” pe st She bowed her head. . “But you do not love him? I have a right, to know. You do not love him?” “ What matters it?” she answered, hiding, ‘ of na vee nt ? Pi i» A GIRL’S HEART. | careless tone: sweetly. _ Her scented breath fanned his cheek. ry her white, haggard face. ‘‘ Nothing but death can release me from my vow. Go, go! You are driving me mad. I cannot endure this scene,” The sharp anguish of this appeal would not let him linger. He dropped a hot kiss upon her bowed head, then turned and went slowly from the room. | Like one ina dream he staggered out into the sunshine and the open air. A white dress came fluttering toward him, gliding through the shrubbery. Wy 24 It was Grace Atherton, She gained his side, and her hand fell gently as a snowflake | upon hisarm. Her eyes were full of soft and © subtle pity.” “Going away?’ she cried, reproachfully. ‘TY am so sorry I did not know you were hare, Did you find anybody to entertain you?” “ Miss Clyde,” he answered. She gave a perceptible start. And so you saw Rachel? I am glad of that. Of course she told you the news?” ‘What news?” Grace forced a laugh, and returned, in a | ‘*She is to marry Mr. Dent.” “Mr. Dent!” Dr. Tremaine recoiled as if he had been struck. His face grew ghastly. “‘T don’t think I understand you,” he said, harshly. ** You did. I said Rachel was going to mar- ry Mr. Dent.” ‘“‘Tmpossible!” He gasped out the word. while his brow grew dark and lowering. “Tt is too true,” murmured Grace, ‘1 would not have believed it. But she makes no secret of her intentions. Ican’t understand it No more could Dr. Tremaine. He stood quite still, growing hot and cold by turns. He felt angry, hurt, humiliated. He had only thought of the mysterious stranger. It had never once occurred to hine that it was Mr. Dent to whom her word was plighted. Why was it? Why had she given herself up to the man she feared and hated? “Tt is very odd,” he said, with a ghastly | smile. “Very. He is so old, so coarse, so vulgar, so unsuited in every way. It must be a pow- erful motive that induced her to betroth her- self to him.” She gave him a swift glance and went on: | -- “IT have not forgotten the discovery we made in the garden that night. Iwas sure the man Rachel met then was her lover. I think so still. But circumstances have compelled her to give him up, and accept Mr, Dent,” ** Doubtlessly you are right.” ‘ | The words fell slowly from hislips. Hewas smiling his best. But it was a strange, forced | smile in which pain, mortification and scorn © were all mingled. ' “TI hope she will be happy,” said Grace, ‘But I donot see how that is pos- sible.” | Her soft glance, so full of magnetism and subtle sympathy was upon Dr. Tremaine’s face. She stood beside him, bright, beautiful, gentle, wo- manly, all—to outward seeming—that man could ask to make the sum of earthly happi- ness. ; Her graceful figure was slightly inclined to- ward him. Was it imagination—or did her lovely face express an emotion stronger and deeper than sympathy? Man-like, he accepted the incense so cunning- ly offered. . He caught her hand almost fierce- ly to his lips and cried out: ‘‘God bless youl You, at least, are good and true!” ' | Then he swung swiftly on his heel and strode | away. Grace stood watching him, her cheeks dyed with blushes and her heart throbbing | fiercely. \ ‘tiled countenance, upon CHAPTER XIII. FOR HIS SAKE. A ¥Frw gloomy days went by. . Rachet was walking in the shrubbery on morning. She did not often go there now; but the close air of the house had seemed ta stifle her. So she had stolen forth, How lovely everything looked in this gread domain of Nature! Grasses, flowers and blos- soming shrubs were decked with dew-drops, as if some lavish hand had been sprinkling . diamonds upon them in the still hours of the night. All the air was odorous. It was a peaceful, sweetly-serene picture upon which midsummer sunlight lay warm and yel- ow. Rachel sighed softly to herself as she gazed around. It seemed hard that one must endure such unhappiness as had fallen to her lot when all earth was full of so much beauty and so- renity. Her sky had not brightened. She saw no hope in the future, no happiness in the present. Mr. Dent was inexorable. Who could help her? Not Colonel Heathcliff—in spite of his pleading looks she dared not tell him the whole truth in respect to her situation, Not Mrs. | Heathcliff or Grace—they seemed almost to gloat over her wretchedness. Not Dr. Tre- maine—he had mistaken and misapprehended her in a manner that made her burden doubly | hard to bear. Who then? Madame Gale? not probable. broken reed, all? At this point in her reflections she turned a sudden bend in the path she was traversing, and came face to face with Mr. Dent. : He had evidently followed her into the gar- den. She grew cold at sight of him; but, ral- lying her drooping spirits, she stepped quickly forward and sought to pass him. He raised his hand, either in entreaty or menace. Rachel recoiled, stood stock still, and stared at him wildly, her heart beating very fast. “Did you think to run away from me?’ he demanded, © She made no answer. . Perhaps, but It seemed like leaning upon a What could madame do, after But her white, star- which fear and re- pulsion were plainly written, told its own story. Mr. Dent was not so blind but that he read it. A frown knitted his heavy brows, He seemed to struggle with himself a moment, “You may hate me,” he said, at last, in a low, deep voice, ‘but you can’t utterly de- spise me. My love makes me almost as noble as yourself. You will see it so, some day, when you grow more reconciled to the in- evitable.” ““T shall never be reconciled.” A sneer curled his lip, “You don’t know yourself, beautiful erea- ture,” he made answer. “No woman under ‘he heavens could long remain indifferent to a man’s abiding, idolatrous love.” Her spirit kindled at the words, ‘ “You have made a great mistake,” she said, her eyes flashing fire. “‘ Woman’s love is not . to be bought, sold or coerced, No strength of passion could awaken a response in my heart toward a man I despised,” “You do not know that.” “I do know it!” she persisted, ‘And I hope you will take warning intime. My pres- ent abhorrence is nothing compared to what I | should feel if compelled to take my place be- ss es your wife,” ark flush crossed his face and ¢ ceded, leaving him frightfully pale, Bt Ie “Take care!” he whispéred, in a hoarse voice, ‘Don’t provoke me too far, Even you might repent it, for I could not answer for the result.” She would not continue the sy turned from him haughtily and “aa ah “Let me pass. Why have you followed ma here?” ee ‘““Why? Because I have something to say }
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See ee -house.” ‘Tf I must listen—go on,” He drew nearer, and would have taken her hand had she permitted it, “IT know you have not forgotten the terms of our bargain, Rachel, In consideration of your band in marriage—a certain person who shall be nameless goes scot free and I do not use the information I ‘hold against him--in- formation, by the way, that would lodge him in the nearest prison.” “Hush!” cried the poor girl, clasping her fingers over her temples. “Oh, hush!’ “‘Humph, Don’t be frightened, my dear, If I refuse to act nothing can be done against the person in question.” “Don’t speak of him at all. Please don’t,” _ she entreated, with an apprehensive glance all round, “Good. I have no wish to do so,” and a ool smile of triumph curled hislip. “I have a more agreeable subject to broach. It is the wedding-day. When is it to be?” She started up from her crouching attitude at the question, agitated, and very white. ‘*T—I—don’t know,” she stammered. ‘In ‘one or two years, perhaps.” “One or two years?’ he echoed. ‘Bah! It shall be within as many weeks.” “Oh, no, nol” screamed Rachel, staring at him wildly again. ‘‘ Youdon’t mean it? You would not beso cruel? It can’t be—oh, it can’t be,” “Tt can—and must!” he made answer, with ashrug. “Am TI to be kept waiting foreyer for my happiness? No, It is for me to decide in this matter, and I have decided.” “How?” Her voice was sharp and clear. , horribly, even to herself. “We will be married two weeks from this day.” Her fictitious strength deserted her in an in- stant, She fell at his feet, weeping, moaning and wringing her hands, “Oh, no, no, no!” she cried. ‘I cannot. Give me time. You mustgive metime. Itis so soon. Oh, for the love of heaven, have a little pity.” He lifted her up, and tried to soothe her in his rough way. But he did not relent. The expression on his pale, inexorable face under- went no change, “Calm yourself,” he said, ‘It would not help you, even if I were to yield to your wishes. You must marry me finally. Why seek to put it off? Think of him/ He can tread the earth a free man from the day that sees you mine!” “You are not deceiving me?” “No, no.” “‘Then I can do anything—suffer anything —for his sake!” \ The words were spoken in a shrill scream. Her strength seemed to return, for she sprung clear of the man’s loathsome embrace, of a sud- den, and fled wildly up. the path. Gazing after her, Mr. Dent muttered, softly: ‘Two weeks! two short weeks! I care not how soon they pass, for then, then, she will be Ié sounded ine! A little later Rachel sat in her private room at Fairlawn, with her face hidden in her trem- bling hands, thinking: “Tt is allover. Lamdoomed. Nobody can save me—for I will never prove false to him! Oh, may God be merciful and grant me ashort life! If I could only die upon my wedding- day!” Then she burst into a passion of hyster- ical sobs. It seemed as if her heart would break in the storm of grief and despair that wrung her frame. Her trials for that day were not ended, Mr, Dent managed to let everybody in the, house know that the wedding-day had been appoint- ed, using the same ready cunning with which he had made public the engagement. _ As a natural result, Rachet met curious hour of the afternoon, Mrs, Heathcliff seem- > | rh _ looks when she made her appearance at a late x irae oe ss Tae oa 4 ‘Te © ae. «ly. re A GIRL’S HEART. ‘to you that could not so well be said in the | ed pleased; she was very gracious; very low- voiced and tender. Grace’s face was flushed, and she appeared restless and excited. The colonel was grave, sad and troubled, but he made no allusion to what had just trans- pired. : ; Dr. Tremaine was at Fairlawn that evening. Rachel met him for a moment as she was re- turning from Colonel Heathcliff’s room where she had been reading to the invalid. He hap- pened to be crossing the hall at the same mo- ment. They were brought face to face. It was a trying moment for both. Rachel caught her breath sharply, passed one hand over her heart to still its fearful beating, then nerved herself for the ordeal before her. She saw Dr. Tremaine start, change color, swing away from her, and then turn quickly back a ain. A “Thave beard the news,” he said, holding out his hand, with the ghost of a smile ought to offer my well-wishes.* She did not take his hand; she did not »,»ak, She could not. “T don’t think you have been quite frank with me,” he went on, after a pause. ‘At any rate, I have been wofully deceived. Ido not reproach you. It was none of my business, perhaps.” He waited, looked at her fixedly, but still she was silent. “T hope you will be happy, Rachel. But I have my fears. If you are marrying Mr. Dent for his money, may God forgive youu—I never can!” His voice choked with that last word. He had meant to say more, Turning abruptly on his heel, he slowly left her. With her white, haggard face turned up- ward, the wretched girl prayed: “Gracious Father, be merciful! This cup is more than I can bear!” CHAPTER XIV. THE STRANGE WOMAN, Mrs, HEATHCLIFF and Madame Gale had been walking along one of the shaded lanes in the vicinity of Fairlawn. Both ladies looked flushed and excited. ‘ They had been quarreling. Of course it was about Rachel Clyde that they disagreed. Madame insisted that the marriage should not be permitted to take place—that Mrs, Heath- cliff could prevent it, and it was her duty to do so. , Mrs. Heathcliff, on her part, denied-having any influence in the matter. Mr. Dent could do as he pleased—and so could Rachel, for that matter, and since they were determined to marry, why should she interfere? 1t was ma- nifestly their own business, At a turn in the lane the two ladies separa- ted. They could come to no understanding. Nothing was left them but to consider the mat- ter more fully before taking any action. Each was bent on having her own way, how- ever, and, unfortunately, their ways pointed to very different results. Madame Gale walked on by herself a few steps, with her eyes bent down. She was scowling darkly. She was really quite angry and out of all patience with Mrs. Heathcliff, ““Pve sacrificed so much to that woman,” she muttered, showing her yellow teeth half- venomously ‘It seems hard to find her so ungrateful. I wash my kands of her affairs. Poor Rachel shall not be made unhappy, let what will come of it,” Striding along fiercely, with both hands swinging at her side, and her funny little brow contracted, she stopped suddenly, without any apparent object and looked back. Mrs, Heathcliff was standing near the curve where she had left her. Her attitude was de- jected and downcast. This was not all madame saw. Her sharp eyes took ina second figure—the figure of a woman, odd, outlandish, outre, that was slowly moving down the lane as if anxious to speak to Mrs, Heathcliff, : Madame was apt to have sudden convic- ft ie . 4 inn oN ; ect 48 tions. She had one now—a conviction that this odd, somewhat ghastly woman would be mixed up more or less intimately with all their histories, What could she have to say to Mrs, Heath- «. cliff? : Madame determined to find out. There was a break in the hedge close by the place where she was standing. She stepped into it, doubled back on her own.footsteps, and walked rapidly — to the curve where she had left Mrs. Heath- cliff. The strange woman reached the curve in the lane at about the same moment. There was only the hedge-row between madame and the other two women. But, fortunately, it hap- pened to bea thick hedge, and screened her effectually. The woman did not appear to be troubled with any superfluous modesty. The instant she paused in the shaded lane, she said, in a gruff, masculine voice: om “You are Mrs, Heathcliff?” “ Yes. n” Madame Gale heard the lady in question re- ply, coldly and distantly. ‘‘Let’s walk on together, ma’am. I’ve got something to say to you.” ce | “Thank you,” was the haughty answer: ‘May I trouble you to say it here?” The woman seemed somewhat disturbed by this rebuff. She gave an angry snort, and muttered something sharply to herself. i “Very well, ma’am,” she said, aloud, after a pause. ‘It concerns Mr. Dent.” A Her voice had a curious inflection as she spoke that name. To Madanie Gale, crouched there behind the hedge-row, it sounded ‘so strange and horribly that a quick shudder ran all over her. “Ah!” murmured Mrs. Heathcliff. — ‘Yes, ma’am. I want to see that man. And I'd like to see him without being seen myself. I believe I used to know him.” — \ at Then she laughed—a hoarse, gruff laugh scarcely pleasant to hear. ; “Indeed?” said Mrs. Heathcliff, supercili- ously. ‘“‘ I’m sure I shall not prevent you from seeing him.” . “ Won’t you help me, ma’am?” “Excuse me. I don’t see how I well could. Good-morning.” t : With that she was off. .The strange woman did not stir, but madame heard her muttering and stamping her foot as if very much put out. in “‘ Pauline thinks she is crazy,” thought mad- ame. ‘‘I wonder if she is?’ (fie Her resolve was soon taken. Pressing close _ to the hedge-row she said, in a friendly voice: “My good woman, don’t be frightened,» Don’t run away from me. I wish you well. And perhaps I can help you.” ; There was a muttered exclamation on the other side of the hedge, and then the woman said, sharply: e ¥s Rte “Who are you?” wus? ‘¢ A well-wisher.” ply “Why are you hiding there?” af Ga “Twas walking in these grounds. I over-. heard what you said dent.” ‘ ‘ pe You will see that madame did not hesi- tate to tell white lies when the occasion de- manded, i ; There was a grunt, a’short laugh, and then the woman said: OR “Tf you are a friend, comeinto the lane and show yourself.” beat aS “That I wil. Wait for me.” : Madame gathered up her dress, ran back to: the gap in the hedge by which she had entered the grounds, and, three minutes later, confront- ed the strange woman in tho lane, hana A nearer view made her look odder and, — She was very _ more whimsical than ever. tall, clad in black, and, warm as was the weather, wore a huge ¢loak thrown over her’ shoulders, She had iron-gray hair, a skin and hollow jaws. Sho looked to be very old, but close observation showed that sick-~ * by the merest acci- bleached, sallow e »* Tas 20alud oi tes aig? mM. ‘Ff; rte > t foe ‘ets ta > . on ev ; hairy ee eee \ : ny We 5 ‘ ae 4 , ” . t i » F ‘ 4 ra ‘ 7 " as ‘ P os ee i Fee ho aes
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: e f Whe a * Jf 44 remem ek ot yy ness or feoulale must. ts cve aged her more than “years. Her eyes were sae aie They had a sharp, penetrating, almost cunning outlook, and a certain wild restlessness of expression that was suspicious, to say the least. Madame had observed all this even before she said, with a couttesy, and a grim smile: “Tamhere, Speak freely.” ‘The woman gave her a aha glance, and re- turned: “ Why should I speak to you at all?” _ “Because I can tell you nearly as much of Mr. Dent as can Mrs. Heathcliff her- 7) Oe “Really?” she caught madame’s hand and squeezed it hard. ‘You are not deceiving» me?” she cried, eagerly. “ec No,” “T believe you. I want a chance to watch this Mr. Dent a few moments, without his knowledge.” “So I heard you tell Mrs. Heathcliff.” “You will help me? ‘You can help me? Oh, / it would be so good and kind of you! You | would be doing me a service, and him a ser- vice; and others of whom you do not dream, perhaps, a service.” She said this quite wildly. A feverish light shone in her eyes, and a hectic spot burned in either cheek, ‘Why do you wish to see “Mr. Dent?” For answer she gave madame acunning leer, and slowly shook her head. “You will not tell me, when I have pro- mised to help you? Thatisscarcely fair.” She remained silent a moment, drovped her head on her breast, and appeared to be rumi-| ‘nating. “ Answer me one question,” she cried out, suddenly and sharply. ‘Is Mr. Dent going to be married?” A “GIRL'S HEART. | “Tt ai is he!” she criéd again. Madame shook her angrily. She was now thoroughly frightened, and regretted what she — had done. ‘Come away,” she whispered, ‘*Come with me. You shall come.” The woman drew along, gasping sigh. Half- leading, half-dragging her, madame managed to get her away from the house, and eventually to the little wicket by which they had entered the grounds, “Now go your way,” she said, scowling darkly. ‘I hope you are satisfied. At any rate, I wash my handsof you. WouldTI had done so sooner.” sharply. | viction growing stronger and stronger in her mind that the woman was mad, CHAPTER XV, JANE, Mr. Dent finished his cigar, and sauntered slowly toward the steps ance at the hall-door. She called to him, andof course he went back to speak to her. “T had only a word to say,” she whispered, | glancing sharply all round. termined to marry Rachel?’ hoarse laugh, ‘‘Ilove the girl almost to mad- | ness. plans. Why do you ask?” upon which I had not counted.” She referred to Madame Gale. But Mr. Dent did not know this; nor did he know what madame’s power. So knitting his brow, angrily, he demanded: ‘What do you mean?” “T cannot stop to explain,” she answered, Turning, she walked rapidly away, the con- Just then Mrs. Heathcliff made her appear: | | this place. “You are still de- | “Determined?” he echoed, and burst into a , Nothing has occurred to change my — ‘You are likely to meet with opposition , , good and sufficient reasons she had for fearing . | now. - The thought of possession is too delight- ‘ful by far.” Smiling and smirking he walked on. He tried hard to banish every disagreeable thought. He meant to fill his whole heart and soul with delightful dreams of Rachel. Bad, unprincipled, coarse as the man was, this love he felt for the young, innocent girl was genuine. It filled his whole being, and was likely, in time, to make him better and purer. Unconscious what feet had trodden that way a few moments before him, he took the: path leading down to the little wicket. Pres. | ently he paused in the shade of a fine old larch, to wipe his heated forehead. “ve fought a good fight with the world and the devil,” he muttered, between his close-set teeth. ‘I’ve waded through difficulties and discouragements that would have killed an- other man. And now, when love and peace offer themselves, am I to be balked of both? “No,” he cried, stamping his foot in sudden frenzy. ‘I don’t know who has dogged me to But let them take care! It would be dangerous to cross my path, just now.” His fist was shaking wildly in air, Some thing dark, malignant, horrible had come into his evil face. His small, twinkling eyes shone like two balls of fire. The gate clanged sharply. A shadow fell across his path. Looking up he saw the yel- low old, woman who had mystified Madam, Gale so completely. A muttered imprecation fell from his lips. His jaw dropped. He recoiled, ashen white, and stood staring breathlessly at the sudden apparition. She returned his gaze, grinning horribly, the while, and stretching out one of her bleached and shriveled hands. “Edward,” she said, in a low, hoarse voice, “Yes,” answered madame, grimly. hurriedly. ‘I only wished to put youon your | “are glad to to see me?” The woman gave a gasp, grew ashy white, | guard.” He struck down her hand, glaring at her and slowly pressed her hand ACTORS her 6 -Yes,” brutally, as if tempted to lay her dead at his temples. bi Take me to him,” she whispered huskily. “Take me tosome spot where I can deter- mine whether thisis the man of whom I have ~ come in search.” -Madame’s mind was already made up. It might be foolish—it might even be unwise— but she was determined the woman should have riage, no matter how earnestly Rachel may urge it.” ‘“‘Humph. I am not likely to do that.” “Your only safe way is to bring it to a speedy consummation.” She paused, glanced apprehemsively around once more, and finally said, in a lower tone: “Don’t be persuaded to postpone the mar- | feet ‘ You?” he hissed, venomously. “ You?’ The ghastly grin "left her face. She drew back, her lip quivering, and agreat tear splash- ing over her faded cheek. “Yes, Edward,” she answered, meekly. ‘Why are you here? Answer me that?” “T came because you were here.” “JY met a strange woman in the lane, this | He ground his teeth, cursing fearfully. Hie morning, who was asking for you.” long body curled itself up as a panther curls He stared hard at her, changed color, and when ready to make some fearful leap. finally said: “How dared you follow me?’ he screamed. '“ Who was she?” ** How dared you?” “I don’t know. I told youshe was astranger.” | “* #ecause—vecause—I love you.” “You say she asked for me?” The answer seemed to touch him. The Boe. | Depot fcseareale tified. . pare wy? gered eareneln with me,” she said. . ‘They set out together. The woman walked on silently for the most part. But, now and | then, she would pause for a moment, mutter a few broken sentences to herself, with a very wild glitter in her eyes; then. she would goon - again. 6 Yes,” white-heat of anger’ went out of his face. Madame felt puzzled and alittle frightened. “Did she make use of the name Dent!” His hard mouth softened. He looked at the “She’s mad—mad as a March hare,” she| ‘She did.” woman more kindly than he had done be- fore. ‘Poor Jane!” The words were scarcely audible. But, low as was the tone in which they were utter- ed, the woman caught them. She sprung to- ward him with a hysterical cry, “God bless you! Now you are kind and good again. Now you are my own Edward.” — Her long arms wreathed themselves about He drew a quick breath of relief. “Odd!” he muttered. ‘‘ Who could it have been? She would not have known that name, It must have been some one else,” Then, looking up sharply, he said, aloud: ‘*Could you describe the woman?” Hess muttered, grimacing and shuddering. __—, Still she had no thought of giving up her | mission, They reached Fairlawn, and she led the way intothe grounds by means of’a little wicket, seldom used. She did not care’to be | seen in this woman’s company, especially by ‘Mrs, Heathcliff. “ Exactly.” _ Thelawn wasdeserted. Madamekeptinthe' She was about to do so when a rich voice shadow of the shrubbery, and crept toward was heard near at hand caroling a song, and a | the house, pausing at last under cover of some step crossed the hall. his neck. He stood panting, gasping, shudder- vines and wild roses, half a dozen yards from “Tt is Grace,” said Mrs. Heathcliff. ‘She ing in her embrace a moment, then released the veranda. is coming forme. Some other time I will de- | himself, ‘Mr, Dent usually comes here to smoke at scribe the woman.” “Jane,” he said, looking steadily in her “this hour,” she said. “Keep quiet,and youare’ She hastily retreated. Mr. Dent stood | face, “ what do you "intend to do, now that you sure to see him.” | seowling darkly for some minutes, Then he re here?” - The words had scarcely left her lips ere Mr. thoughtfully descended the steps. | She hesitated, brushed her hand once or - Dent came sauntering along the veranda, with He seemed to be troubled. He walked with . twice across her forehead, and then made an- a cigar in his mouth. his head drooped upon his breast. Now and | phases with ae smile: The woman saw him, and gavea quick start, then he kicked the loose pebbles out of his path | As if you did not know, Edward. Oh, for shame)?’ anda suppressed ery. with a savage impetus. | ' “Tt is—it is he!” _ Curse it,” he muttered, “what untoward He shrugged impatiently. “Hush!” said madame, sternly. “ ie must fate has turned up, now? | Something is wrong, “Try to collect your senses, Jane. In the not hear us.” te ' Iean feel it in my bones. That woman! t place you may tell me if it was you who | was asking for me, this morning?” “Oh, yes, of course,” smiling and bobbing. “ But you asked for Mr, Dent.” “I know,” bobbing again, and leering at “But, what’s in a namet _ She searcely seemed to hear the wwcrtia She it.Jane? Impossible!’ How could she find i ‘stood breathless, fixed as stone, her glaring here, under another name? Ha, ha, ha! She _ eyes turned upon ad man lounging there so un-| has not wit enough for that. Poor fool! of ber gaze. | “4Who is it, thon? I must find out as - Ske looked like a’ idcad ‘woman, Her face speedily as possible, Heaven grant it is no- | him cunningly. was ghastly. A clammy sweat had broken body te work me mischief. Swect Rachel! be- | Did you think a name could hide you from me, over her hcad and features. eat acted I would not give you up| Edward?” /
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‘* No,” he answered, biting his lip. “No,” she echoed, triumphantly, it seemed. “You might be Brown or Smith or Jones to the rest of the world, but you would still be Edward, my Edward, to me.” “‘ How did you find me here?’ “How?” pressing her fingers upon her tem- ples. ‘How? The birds must have told me where to look for you, or the night-winds whis- pered it, I don’t know? I can only tell that T wanted you so very much.” : He was silent. He cast uneasy glences up and down the path. What if some one were to come down trom the house. How could he rid himself of her? “The birds and the night-winds told me something else,” she went on, after a pause, They told me you were learning to love an- other, I believe that is why I came.” “To learn if the birds and the winds were telling you the truth?” ““ Yes, ” “ And if they were?” She writhed, started away from him a lit- tle, and said, sharply: “‘T think I should kill you!” Mr. Dent sprung forward and caught her arm in a vise-like grip. : “You fool! You accursed fool!” he shrieked. ’ “Come away with me! You shall come!” CHAPTER XVI, A WOMAN’S COQUETRY. THAT same evening, just as the early dusk was beginning to shroud the landscape in its purplish glooms, Grace Atherton sat at her chamber window, leaning over the sill. Her face looked flushed, _She was eagerly Watching and listening, with her brilliant ®yes fixed upon a single spot in the shrubbery below. ; Ths syringas parted presently, and a young man stepped out into the path, He was a very handsome fellow, blonde-bearded and yel- low-haired. He had a tall, well-knit figure, andthe muscular arms and limbs of a young ° athlete, He gazed anxiously up the path for a mo- ment, as if expecting somebody to come down from the house to meet him, and then, drop- ping his head dejectedly, sprung into the Screen of bushes again, . race had drawn back from the window soon enough to avoid being seen by him; but not before she had sharply scrutinized both form and feature, ‘Tam not mistaken,” she muttered, “It is ‘© Same mysterious stranger who met Rachel in the garden the night when she first came to Fairlawn, He has come back in the hope of seeing her again,” Grace knitted her brow thoughtfully. She had been waiting for the last fifteen minutes for a good view of the dark figure she had seen *eping in and out the shrubbery, in the bush- aa garden, by the merest accident, a little When the opportunity came at last, she felt nevel Gite at the discovery she made. It thas matahalaat Cecurred to her that she might n. She had seen that figure only ore, and then in’ the somber gloom of night; but she ; After a momatts Tas meet f° gaan. ration, she rose, threw a light scarf over h i ed to the garden. «sian gm scandalous for a be- trothed young lady like yourself to go oes ‘Meeting strange men in all sorts of ” She walked rapidly toward the spot where she had seen the handsome stranger, Hor tread was light and noiseless as that of a spirit, As fate would have it, she met the man face to face, just as he had stepped into the path to take another observation, sii He recoiled, growing very red in the face, He seemed surprised and confused at seeing a aim wit sha poy ai of nso be at] such @ pr f assum: . — == bia st ! “JT beg your pardon, miss,” he muttered, apologetically, raising his hat to her. “He is superb—a perfect Apollo,” thought Grace. ‘ Rachel’s infatuation no longer puz- zles me.” ~ Aloud she said, with a pretty air of blended dignity and courtesy: ‘Were you going to Fairlawn?” ‘No, miss,” he answered, hesitatingly. am a trespasser on these grounds,” **Perhaps you were looking for some one?” “No—no!” He bowed, walked on a few steps, and then turned back again. “T was looking for some one,” he said. ‘Perhaps you can help me. At any rate, I wish to trust you. One so beautiful would not betray me.” She dropped her bright, dark eyes, and made answer: ‘* Whom do you wish to find?” ‘* Miss Clyde.” “Rachel?” she exclaimed, with a well-affect- ed start. “Yes, Rachel Clyde,” he returned, eagerly. ‘¢- You know her?—you are her friend?’ She nodded. “T was sure of it. I am very anxious to see her, but for certain reasons, cannot ask for her at the house. Will you send her here to me?” “ Certainly, if you wish it.” She smiled brightly, and turned as if to go away. Thenasudden thought seemed to strike her. ‘ ““Dear me! I had forgotten!” she exclaimed, in well-acted dismay. ‘‘ Rachel is out driving with Mr. Dent.” She uttered the falsehood so glibly that the young man never thought of doubting her word, “Driving with Mr. Dent?” he echoed. “ That is strange—very strange indeed.” “T do not think so.” She was laughing softly. He looked at her steadfastly. “Why not?” he queried. “Of course you know they are betrothed lovers?” He started a little, and then burst into a loud laugh. “Rachel and Mr. Dent lovers? No, I did not know it. Perhaps you will tell me next that oil and water have assimilated.” Grace drew herself up haughtily. “You doubt my word, sir, but I have told you the truth. If they are not lovers, they ought to be, for they are to be married in less than two weeks.” ‘‘ Married?” “You seem to delight in echoing my words, sir. I really wish you would not.” Glancing up at him swiftly, she saw that he had grown ghastly pale. One of his clenched hands was uplifted, shaking wiidly in the “eT alr, “Married?” he said again. ‘“ You are tri- fling with me, Rachel marry that man! Ah, just heaven!” : _ * Why shouldn’t she marry him?’ said Grace, tartly. “Why? Good God!” He stood writhing and quivering. Some- thing in her face seemed to strike sudden con- viction to his heart. He turned upon her al- most fiercely. “Js this thing true you are telling me?” he demanded. ‘As true as the gospel,” she made answer. A groan broke from him, He covered both hands over his face, a moment, and then re- moved them. ‘I beg your pardon,” he said, in a hoarse voice. “I had no right to doubt your word.” ‘ leutp. ee her beauti- 1 Peg am ~ a ars gy aS! ‘ “Tt must not be permitted. | I tell you mur- yay w kal | ees 52 * A ae © Sas ee + Ae wi
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ae A GIRL’S HEART. —— “They slipped noiselessly into one of the F nearest paths. Twilight had deepened rapidly. ‘Se was now quite dark in the shaded walks, ; but a gibbous moon hung in the western hea- | ven, eae They had not proceeded far when the report f of a pistol. at no great distance, rung out sharp and shrill on the quiet air. Grace heard it, and uttered a wild, wild shriek, oe “Too late—too late!” she screamed. ‘Oh, ei my God, what have I done?” Then she fled precipitately in the direction from whence the sound proceeded. CHAPTER XVIL THE PISTOL-SHOT, THAT same evening, and about the same hour, Rachel was wandering by herself in the more remote grounds, She had stolen forth quietly. She did not wish anybody—even Colonel Heathcliff him- self—to know she had left the house. By perfect silence in regard to her own movements—and in that way alone—could she _ hope to escape Mr, Dent’s unwelcome atten- AONE p55 orien : She was to be his wife, her promise had | ment, ‘her hands to her head. been given already, but she meant to enjoy her freedom away from him as long as_possi- ble. : It was a beautiful night—ealm, cool, odor- ous with the batmy breath of.summer in its golden prime breathing softly upon her cheek. ' Bordering on the remote grounds was a small lake, and having reached its shore she sat down on a fallen log that lay drifted across the yellow sands, to rest. ~ Somebody came up behind her, presently. _ She heard the step, but sat quite still, with a - wildly-beating heart. She would have known it among a thousand. _ Nearer and nearer it came—a slow, weary ee _ step that had no life or elasticity about it. It : eee paused an instant, less than two yards away, _—“‘wstthere was a sudden exclamation of surprise, _. and tnen it bounded close to her side. ‘“Rachel—my Rachel!” _ The cry came. straight from a breaking heart. . She felt herself clasped in the embrace _ of two warm, loving arms. Hot kisses were ‘showered on lip and cheek. She knew it was Dr. Tremaine who held her ss thus, But she bad no strength to resist him. ss leaving a long-drawn sigh of relief, she rested ‘her head on his great, heaving chest, and for a ‘ moment was happy. _ © Thank God for this!” he murmured, in low, % rapt tones, “At first I meant to pass you ss: without a word. I tried to do it; but I could — not—1 could not.” : ; ras He kissed her over and over again, while she | ss lay passive in his arms, like eey child. | passive, scarcely breathing, in fact. ee “Oh, Rachel, you are such a puzzle to me,” he went on. ‘‘Sometimes I am as sure of eo. your love for me as of mine for you. Iam at _-—=«s this moment. I know you love me, If you ss do not, you are either very coquettish or very ss gruel. ‘Let me clasp you closer, darling. It is ‘happiness to hold you thus. The memory of this blissful moment will help me to endure | _ thé coldness and indifference with which | you may greet me the very next. time we meet.” , . His eager, pardonable words called her to | herself. She writhed out of his arms, and turn- edasif tofly. | “ God. help me!” she moaned. ‘“ You must | leh me go I am the promised wife of , . another,” “T will not - you go until you tell me with | your own lip: if you love me, Fy Tie wea gna “a side again, with his arms | held out, and his great, burning eyes—eyee so ‘full of love and despair and mute appeal—_| fixed steadfastly on her face. "This is madness,” she murmured. ‘Tt is destiny,” he answered. ‘“ We were sneant for each other.. Dare you deny it?” | Se could not. She stood palpitating and trembling; her strength, her power of resistance -—.-— Wasnearly gone. | ash “@o away,” she pleaded, piteously. “ You see how weakIam. Mercy!” ‘Have you been merciful to me?” do not even guess—what I have suffered of late. Ihave not been mistress of my own actions, even. You mustnot judge me,” “T will not. Iwill only love you. Come, Rachel.” His arms were stretched toward her again. Ah, what a sweet haven of rest they seemed | to promise, clasped close to that beating heart. A fierce temptation assailed her for the mo- She leaned nearer and nearer to the waiting arms, as if drawn thither by some magnetic force. Another instant, and her head would have been pillowed upon his breast. A sound startled her—the report of a pis- tol near at hand. It echoed sharply on the still night air. She started up wildly. A single thought seemed to take possession of all her being. “Oh, Dick, Dick!” she screamed, pressing She would have plunged into the gloom of the shrubbery that bordered the lake, but Dr. Tremaine held her back, ‘“What is it?’ he asked, ‘‘ What do you fear?” ‘Dick, Dick!” she cried again. ‘‘They have murdered him!” Dr. Tremaine’s face shadowed. Who was _ and trembling. “Dick?” The handsome young fellow he had seen with her in the garden, that night? “Tt was some fowler,” he said, soothingly. “You have no need to tremble so, It is not unusual to hear a pistol-shot in the vicinity,” But the report seemed to startle her in very nearly the same way it hadstartled Grace, She had an instantaneous conviction that some mis- fortune had happened. ‘Let me go,” she cried, eagerly. know the worst. Let me go.” “TI will go with you.” Heclasped her hand tightly, and led her into | the profound gloom of tho shrubbery, where the pale moon helped to light their way, walk- ing rapidly in the direction from whence the report had come. Rapid as was his step, Rachel more than kept pace with him. She breathed heavily, and hurried onward over every obstruction, with a fierce eagerness that would brook no delay. Finally they reached an open glade on the | other side of the lake, ata little distance from | the water’s edge. The pale moonbeams, drop- ped into this secluded spot with a cold and | silvery luster. Dr. Tremaine paused an instant, and sought to hold back his companion, as they emerged from the shrubbery. ~ He saw Mrs. Heathcliff and Grace standing in the center of this glade, bending over some dark object lying at their feet. Let me go forward. first,” he said, almost harshly, But Rachel gave a wild stare all around, and pushed off his detaining hand. “No, no, no!” she shrieked, and rushed to- ward the little group, | Dr. Tremaine had no resource but to follow. He saw Mrs. Heathcliff start, and frown dark- ly, as they came up; but she instantly made room for them. ‘‘ Murder has been done,” she said, in cold, stern tones. ‘‘ Murder?” echoed Rachel. : She reeled giddily. She knew there was a “T must | _dark, still object lying on the dewy grass be- fore her. But she could not look down. She tried to do so, and reeled giddily. ‘‘ Who has. been killed?” she shrieked, clasp- ing her fingers over her temples. ‘‘ Who is ly- , ing there? Oh, why will you not tell me?” | ‘“‘Tt is Mr. Dent!” | “Mr. Dent?” She stood as if paralyzed, a moment. Great, clammy drops broke out all over her forehead. She tottered, and clung quaking to the arm of Grace for support. ‘Oh, merciful Heaven!” _ Mrs. Heathcliff stared at her darkly, \ fi +9, b. a, r Laat aA rah Ci en ae rt i, Pe wee ae a win and , | juridly, it seemed. The moonlight shining on her face, showed how white and stern it. | was “Oh, Dr. Tremaine, you do not know—you “God forgive you, Rachel,” she said, “ if this is your work.” “Her work, mother?’ cried Grace, starting “Hush, oh, hush! You know it is not.” “Directly, it may not be. But there was a reason for the fearful deed that has been done. What was that reason?” Sue giareu around, from one to the other, but nobody made answer. Dr. Tremaine was stooping over the body, and carefully ex- amining it, “He is quite dead,” he muttered, ‘The ball must. have pierced some vital part, and death was instantaneous.” Mrs, Heathcliff heard without heeding hitn, A dark flush had crossed her face. “‘T must speak out my mind here and now,” she said. ‘‘ Jealous hatred was the palpable cause of this murder. Mr. Dent was betroth- ed to Rachel. She had another iover, a mys- terious stranger, who never dared‘ show his face—a tall, yellow-haired young fellow who. has been seen more than once hovering about these grounds. He—” : A bitter moan came from Rachel’s white lips. It touched even the heart of Grace. In. an agony of remorse and contrition she sprung to her mother’s side. ‘Don’t go on,” she pleaded. of heaven, say no more!” Mrs. Heathcliff was silent a moment, stand- ing with her mouth firmly shut and drawn down at the corners in a sort of angry pertur- bation. Then she cried out, fiercely: “T will speak! is the murderer, and should be denounced as such. I here denounce him. He must be found and brought to punishment.” “‘Dick—poor Dick!” gasped Rachel, in faint. heart-sick tones. The words were forced from her lips in spite of every effort to keep them back. Grace “For the love | looked scared, perplexed. “Hush!” she whispered. “Say nothing, do nothing to betray him.” = Grace looked a ghost herself. She was shaking from head to foot. She felt guilty. miseravle, Would this terrible calamity ever have happened if she had held her peace? “Oh, my God! what have I done?” she thought. Aloud she said, turning her white face npon her mother: “This is no time for idle accusations. For my sake, if not for Rachel's, be silent.” © CHABTER XVIIL THE END OF THE RED TRAIL. Mrs, HEATHCLIFF repiied with an angry snort. But she had done all the mischief she cared to do at that moment, and could affore to remain silent. Grace’s demeanor puzzled her, however. She could not understand that the iron of re morse had already pierced the proud girl to the heart. Seeing the crime and misery she had per- haps, though unwittingly, caused, wrought a a and radical change in the haughty uty. » Dr. Tremaine’s brow was dark and lower- | ing. “Madam,” he said, coldly, “our first duty is to the dead. Afterward we can give more thought to the living.” Mrs. Heathcliff caught the tone of reproach in which these words were uttered and bowed stiffly, though with curling lip. “T accept the rebuke. Now what is to be done?” He was about to answer, but stopped sud- derily, with his eyes bent steadfastly upon the ground, — “Strange,” he muttered. ‘ Here is a trais of blood leading away from the spot.” = Stooping nearly to the ground, he distin- guished it plainly in the moonlight—clots and smears of blood on the grass and the shrub- bery, looking like dark, unsightly blots in the tte This yellow-haired stranger |
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A GIRL’S HEART. ei uncertain light, but clearly blood to his prac- tised eye. Grace knelt beside him. She groped along ‘the grass. She, too, saw the blood, and one of her hands was stained by it. She wiped it off, shuddering. BT co trail leads toward the shrubbery,” she Sai . lly Yes,” answered Dr. Tremaine, thought. “Not from it ?” He did not answer, but silently pointed out the perceptible impress of a heavy foot in a bed of yielding moss at the distance of three or four yards, The foot was certainly point- sr Se from the spot where the corpse was ig. _The eyes of the two met for a moment. an same thought had entered the mind of * For Rachel’s sake,” whispered Dr. Tre- ae rising, very white, but uttering no other wor “For Rachel’s sake,” answered Grace, in the Same low tone, following him back to her mother’s side. Be ES But Rachel had been watching them with great staring, wide-open eyes, full of unut- terable dread and terror. Nothing that had — said or done had escaped her observa- on, x She crept up close to Dr. Tremaine, took his hand in her own that shook so he could scarce- ly hold it, and pressed it warmly. “ Thank you,” was all that she said, — {ft was enough. He knew from that mo- | ment she had caught at his own suspicion, and shared it. é Now, turning sharply round, he said: “Go to the house, all of you, for help. I will remain with the body. Send three or four men with a litter.” <4 “Yes, it must be done,” said Mrs. Heath- cliff, drawing her scarf more closely, and shiv- ering a little. ‘You will havea lonely watch w we are away. Come, Grace.” Rachel lingered behind the rest. Her eyes Were burning like two stars in the fearful pal- lor of her face. “Let me share your vigil,” she pleaded. Giving her a swift glance, he replied: “No, I am not afraid to remain alone. Go, quickly,” His look said: “You must go. It is the only way if you do not wish to call immediate attention to what you and I suspect.” She understood him. I will go,” she whispered, heaving a long- drawn sigh. “Dr. Tremaine, I can t you to do what is for the best.” his was all, Mrs, Heathcliff and Grace ‘were already several yards away. She ran forward to join them, and the next instant the ‘shrubbery hid the three figures from Dr. Tre- maine’s sight, of the wood, lying on the wet and i glistening grass, and creeping Noiselessly over the pallid features of the dead man by his side. What a vast grave of wrecked hopes the world seemed, with sorrow and heart-break perpetually striding up and down its length like twin-sisters, ever inseparable}. ““What will the e end be?’ he repeated to eee Shy what will the once, while that lonely vigil lobe gr ne Rachel! God pity her!” ~ Well might he say that! It was, indeed, poor Rachel! His heart bled for her. Every doubt he had ever felt was in- creased ten-fold by what had happened. She loved this handsome stranger who had murder- ed Edward Dent! In vain he triedto think otherwise. The conviction would force itself home upon his mind, How she must and wickedness! / ‘‘Ah, had she only loved me one-half so fondly, how happy I might have made her,” he thought, once, and then grew ashamed of his own selfishness. é Presently voices sounded in the distance, and footsteps drew near. Four men emerged from the shrubbery, bearing some object be- tween them. They were the men Mrs. Heathcliff had sent with the litter. It was a solemn procession that filed along the shadow-haunted path leading up to Fair- lawn a little later. Dr. Tremaine walked first, with his head uncovered, and the cooing night- winds lifting the curls from his white fore- head. When they reached Fairlawn he had thrown off his heartsick mood, and was his placid, alert self once more. He took care to send the men in different directions before Mrs. Heathcliff had an oppor- tunity to see them—one for the village doctor, one for the undertaker, and the remaining two on other errands. & He walked about the house, silentand watch- ful. Presently he saw a demure liftle figure in sober drab glide out of a si c apon the terrace, and fli aS wee Rachel Of co rand. ‘ “She is going to loc He hesitated a mon 1 do. Then he snatched up hi , her. Aa ggg abagi It seemed’ mean and wrong to be dogging like this. But he plunged reck- shfubbery! His anxiety would in inactive. Some harm “across gk ‘er d every now and then to listen, as vgearer the scene of the murder. Dr. sige was compelled to moderate his speed, #hd move with extreme caution. She did not linger in the glade, but ran on swiftly, as if frightened, plunging into the bushes toward which the bloody trail had pointed. Finally she halted and called in a soft, sup- pressed voice: ‘‘Dick, Dick! Where are you, Dick?’ and then ran on a little further, crying out again in the same manner. The second time there came an answer. It was a low moan only, and sounded from a dense thicket at the left. ; She seemed to know the voice. With a quick exclamation of relief and joy, she thrust the thick branches aside and ran onward. Dr, Tremaine stood quite still, listening. He heard two or three low cries, an eager whisper, and then the sound of suppressed weeping. Afterward there was a silence. It lasted so long he grew frightened, at last, and was pre- paring to move on when he heard a little rus- tling of the leaves, and Rachel stood before him. She drew back, crying out sharply. He’ could see her whole figure quiver in the moon- light, ie You?” she said, shrilly. “ Forgive me,” and he held out his hand with a pleading e.' “Tsaw you steal away gestur from the house, and followed you. I dared not trust you to come alone.” She seemed to catch her breath quickly once or twice. At last she looked up at him. “You know all, Dr. Tremaine?” ar ‘“‘T know that the—that he is concealed in yonder thicket,” he answered, pointing behind her. ‘‘Oh, my God!” She sprung forward. She caught his hand, raised it to her lips. “You are good and kind and noble,” she cried. ““You will not betray him, Dr. "vemaine? You will not?” ; The anguish of her appeal went straight to his heart. ‘I may be doing wrong; I shall be severely censured. But, for your sake, Rachel, I will do nothing to bring the criminal to justice,” She covered his hand with her kisses and her suger, knowing all his guilt | tears, She seemed almost beside herself, TF 4 ening oh side. ™) fastly and half-suspicious “That is notall,” she faltered, after a pause. ‘We need help—your help.” . You shall have it.” She met his gaze with an earnest, wistful look. “Do you quite understand me?” *‘T think I do,” he answered. “That we need your assistance as a physi- cian?” “Yes. This man—your friend—is wound- ed. I suspected as much when [I discovered the bloody trail in the glade.” ‘¢We may trust you—we may depend upon you?” ‘ti Yes. ” She drew a long breath of relief and satis- faction. : “Come with me,” sie whispered, leading the y into the thicket. ~ Nbr. Tremaine followed, Ona mossy bank, w a chance strip of moonlight fell clear and bright, lay the wounded man.*His face looked ghastly, and his beautiful yellow hair fell over his forehead in wild disorder. — He heard Dr. Tremaine’s step, and started ‘Dr. Tremaine is our f “Our friend!’ he —— ing stead- y at the new-comer. “Yes, Dick. Do you think I would trusi him if he were not?” “No, no.” 2 He put out his hand with alow, faint laugh. : Sen “Excuse me, Dr, Tremaine, if I do not rise to greet you. But you are very wel yt you are indeed Rachel’s friend and mine,” "~ CHAPTER one DR. TREMAINE’S GuEST! " ~ “TI am Rachel's friend,” said Dr. Tremait sharply. if : “So, $0.” “98 ll. “Tf I do anything to help you, it w her sake.” The young man’s lip curled. ‘‘ Very well,” he answered, coolly. ‘I am not disappcinted. I never expected my fellow-beings to do much for the sake of humanity.” The wor studied that handsome, fearless countenance more clésély than he had done before. The moonbeams shed a glory upon it, and upon the shining hair that crowned the superb head like an aureole. ee He felt almost as if gazing upon some divine creation of the old masters—a pictured saint, rather than tangible flesh and blood. = ’ Had that bright, handsome, fearless young fellow stained his hand with the blood of a fel- low-being? It seerned monstrous, improbable —hée could scarcely believe it. . “You are hurt,” he said, in a gentler tone, bending over him, - 6 Yes.” : ’ *“ Where?” p=) Sores ‘Here, in my side. It’s an ugly wound, but not dangerous, 1 hope.” “T will see.” , Rachel left them for a few moments, while the examination took place. When Dr. Tre- maine called her back, she found the wounded man lying very still, looking ghastlier than ever. “Well?” she said, abruptly. She could force no other question to her lips. But none other was needed. “The hurt is a bad one, but not necessarily dangerous,” said Dr. Tremaine, kindly. ‘He will need careful nursing, however.” She began to shake from head to foot. When she was able to command herself suf- ficiently, she said: ; ** Dick will not be able to leave the neighbor- hood?” “For the present—no,” She clasped her fingers over her temples. For a moment she glared at him as if she were going mad. made Dr. Tremaine wince. He
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18 ‘They will take him!” she muttered. They will take him!” "No, they shall not.” ‘Who will prevent 1%?” “ec I will,” She threw out her hands with a hysterical - ery. “Oh, if you would—if you only would!” “T will. Have no fears.” “But here?” ‘We must get him to my house—you and I. It is just outside the village—half a mile dis- tant across these fields. Nobody comes there, and I keep only two servants, a housekeeper and one other. They are faithful. I would trust my own life in their hands. They would keep our secret, and no one would. dream of searching my house for a criminal.” “ No one.” She stood quite silent a moment, as if dazed. But \tears ot gratitude overflowed her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. “‘¥eu are so good, so kind to me,” she mur- mured. ‘And I have brought only misery to you.” He made a quick gesture. ‘‘Hush. We will not speak of that, you brave—are you strong?” ' Yes; quite strong.” ‘We must get away from this as soon as possible,” “Oh, yes, yes. Be quick, ~ Let us not lose @ moment,” The color came back to her ghastly face. Dick’s peril made her forget her own suffering. She grew active, vigilant, alert, in a moment. _ Dick was lifted up between them, The effort must have pained him fearfully, for his brow contracted, and he bit his lip. But he man- fully kept back all other manifestation of the agony he endured. “Lean upon me, Dick,” whispered Rachel, eagerly. ‘‘Don’t mind how heavily. I am very strong—indeed I am.” “You are my good angel, Rachel,” said the young man, in the same suppressed tone. | But Dr. Trémaine’s ears were quick enough to catch everything. He would rather ‘not have heard, but how could he help it? “They must love each other very dearly,” he thought, unable to repress a bitter pang at the reflection, . i That night-journey across the fields was a long and tedious one. Many times were they to sit down and rest by the way, for ' Dick (as Rachel called him) was a helpless bur- den in their hands, and they could proceed but slowly. The poor girl grew. feverishly impatient. At the slightest sound she would start and clasp her hands, or look behind her with a frightened cry, as if she feared pursuit. At last a long, low house, half buried in shrubbery, rose up before them like an en- chanted dwelling dropped in their path on some propitious moonbeam. “Courage, Rachel,” breathed Dr. Tremaine, softly. ‘‘We are almost there.” “Thank God!” _ _ Then she suddenly caught up Dick’s hand, kissing the listless fingers over and over again in a sort of wild ardor. “@h, Dick, Dick,” she cried, ‘“‘I feel that you are sayed!” The house looked dark and silent, but Dr. : ne drew Rachel and her companion into the shadow of some vines, and rung the bell sharply. ; Are Phere was a long delay, but at last the door adorned the walls, and the floor was covered | ing was opened by an elderly servant-woman. She cried out at sight of Dr, Tremaine, stand- ing there: “Oh, master! I thought you were home and in bed long ago.” ‘‘Hush, Martha. I have brought some friends with me. This young man has been badly hurt. He must remain here seyeral days, and you and I will nurse him.” He led Dick forward as he spoke, “ VY ter. ” * and.” speaidtig a little sternly, this time, “nobody is to be told that he isin the house, let what will happen, You understand?” BS, ak A GIRLS HEART. |. She nodded... She. did not even look much | surprised. Perhaps she had grown used to | strange freaks on her master’s part. |. “You are. to tell Mary exactly what I have told you. I know you can both be trusted. Now help me to get the poor young fellow into * the house,”’ There was no light save the one Martha car- ried. Once in the hall, Dr. Tremaine tarried a ' little, and, threw open the nearest door. ‘¢ Come in here,” he said to Rachel, ‘You are not to go away. I will return for you as quickly as possible.” ; He had lighted the lamps while | speaking. 'Then he went away. Rachel heard him lead- ing Dick into another room. | She sunk into the nearest seat with a gesture | of utter weariness. She felt giddy and faint. | She could scarcely tell whether she were awake | or dreaming. Was all this horror real? | A half-hour went by. Then the door opened again, and Dr. Tremaine looked in. ‘“‘ You can see your friend now if you wish,” he said. ‘‘I have dressed his wounds.” She started up eagerly. When she reached the door she recoiled a little, growing very pale again, “He will not die?’ she faltered. ‘‘ Dick will not die? You have discovered nothing new?’ | No, The wound is deep, as I said before, | but not dangerous. With careful nursing he will recover.” | y a ; She drew a long, sobbing breath. “The ball!” she said. ‘‘ Did you succeed in removing it?” Dr. Tremaine bit his lip, and a puzzled ex- pression showed itself in his face. ‘Tt was not a pistol-shot that wounded him,” “Qh, no, no. Of course not, Iheard but one r mi " Sha remo her hands quickly to her brow as if to still some awful pain that was there. Dr. Tremaine was watching her. “You are faint,” he said, his tone a little | sharp. ‘Rouse up. You have borne a good ‘deal, You must not give way now.” She forced a wan smile to her lips. “Dm better. I will not give way. Lead on.” Before they were half-way. across the hall, ' however, she stopped him again, ; ‘You say Dick’s wound was not given him by a pistol-ball. What then?” “He was stabbed!” She echoed the word, Herlook was ghastly. “Yes, A long, thin knife must have been used. ” “I don’t. understand it. My brain is not clear to-night. Oh, I don’t understand it!” ‘“‘No wonder, poor child,” said Dr, Tremaine, trying to soothe her. ‘“‘I think there must have been a struggle. The poor fellow was wounded, perhaps, even before the shot was fired that—that—killed Mr. Dent.” A quiek shudder ran all over her. She sign- ed for kim to say no more. _ He led her to the door of an apartment near ‘the end of the hall. “Go in,” he whispered. ‘But you must not remain long, or talk too much, Your friend is very weak.” ‘ He opened the door, let her pass in, then | closed it softly again, and went away. ' CHAPTER XX, FAITHFUL FOREVER. -Raocwen found herself in a ‘luxuriously-fur- nished bedchamber. Pictures and statuettes i with a soft velvet pile _ On a handsome 'bedstead of carved ebony, supported by pillows absolutely snowy in their _ whiteness, lay Dick, very pale, very languid- looking. - She crossed the floor and bent over him, her eyes filling. ' _ “Oh, Dick, Dick!’ she cried. ) . Holding out his hand to her, and smiling faintly, he said: _. “Don’t grieve for me, Rachel. I’m worth a dozen dead men yet.” It was a ghastly attempt at mirth. She | shivered involuntarily. — | Would to God you had never, come. here She was forgetting Dr, Tremaime’s caution— forgetting everything save the one awful an- guish that filled her soul, .The words broke from her in spite of any effort to, keep them back. Dick understood her. A flush spread over "his face and kindled in his eyes. “Rachel,” he cried out, “it isn’t possible that. you believe me guilty—that you think I killed that man?” A burst of sobs was her only answer. “T did not! Iswear to you that I did not! These hands of mine are stainless of human blood, thank God.” She looked down at him, eagerly....He flush- ed again, under her gaze, and turned away his face, as if not car_ng to meet her eyes. ** Dick, you would not deceive me?” ‘* Not to save my own wretched life,” ‘*T believe you.” She flung her arms about his neck kissing him in an agony of remorse and penitence. Oh, how helpless and exhausted he looked lying: there! “T am sorry I ever doubted you. But how could I help it? You will forgive me, Dick?” ‘* Yes,” he answered, ‘‘I can forgive even that. I know you would not have deserted me, no matter how wicked and criminal I might have been.” “Never.” ‘‘T know more of your goodness to me than you think, Rachel. You knew I was in the power of that man who called himself Edward Dent. You would have sacrificed yourself to save me,” ‘‘Hush, hush.” ‘ You would. You had promised to marry the villain. I know it.” To her wild stare he answered with a low, faint laugh. ‘‘You wonder who told me—you meant to hide tke truth from me, yourself. You knew I would suffer everything, rather than give you into that villain’s hands.” “Yes, yes.” ** And so I would. The cursed reprobate! Oh, Rachel, you do not know what I have suf- fered through that man!” He ground his teeth fiercely together, An expression of such concentrated bitterness as. made her shudder flitted across his face. “‘Hush, Dick, Remember that he is dead.” ‘Ay, dead. I’m glad of that. He deserved to die, and just such a dog’s death! Oh, there is no pity for him, no forgiveness, in my heart.” She put up her hand to stop him, but he did not mind her, ‘He has tormented, me for years, Rachel. He has hung on my path like a devilish blood- hound,| I have never known peace or rest. Whichever way I fled to avoid him he waz suré to turn up first or last, and I had to do it all over again—fly to some new spot and try to begin a new life there. Ob, God, I wonder how I endured. it so long!. I wonder this right, hand of mine had not crushed him— struck him out of my path long since!” » Rachel wondered, too, realizing as she did how great must have been the temptation, and she felt thas God had been very good to keep him from the crime, , She saw great clammy drops come out on his forehead and stand there like beads. “He is dead, at last,” he went on, as if talk- to himself, ‘He can never again con- front me with ‘is knowledge of the past. No more threats, .d jibes to bear—no more cring- ing forme! Wh, this freedom is glorious!” . He laughed aloud. Rachel clasped her hand over his mouth, shocked, horrified. “Don’t, Dick,” she pleaded. ‘It hurts me to see you like that.” “ Does it, darling? Then I will restrain my- self. I wouldn’t pain you for the world. You know I would not.” | “ y es. ” } He drew her toward him, kissing her lips half a dozen times in quick succession, ., ‘‘Sweet Rachel, my blessed comforter,” he
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whispered. ‘We will be happy, so very hap- py! Nobody can molest us now. That is all over.” He grew so bright, sohandsome and winning at the happy thought that she had scarcely the courage to rouse him from it. “You forget,” she whispered. ‘The dead man—the suspicious circumstances—” She could say no more. He started up, shaking his fist wildly in the air. “Will they dare suspect me of that villain’s murder?’ he screamed. ‘‘ After all I have suffered through him, must he be my evil genius, even in death?” “Oh, Dick, be calm!” “How can I? Good God, this is more than T can bear!” His head had fallen on the pillow so that his face was hidden. Rachel raised him gently, her tears dropping upon his face. “Tt is hard,” she said. “But I thought you had grown used tothe thought that suspicion would be directed against you. I did not Mean to excite you so.” “Tt was not you, Rachel. It was the memory of what that man has done to hurt me.” “Fear nothing,” she went on, in the same soft, soothing strain. “Dr. Tremaine will hide you here until you are better. Then you and I will go away—very far away—and be happy together.” “You would go with me?” “Oh, yes, yes.” ‘‘ How good you are!” Somebody tapped at the door justthen. Ra- chel knew it was Dr. Tremaine, and she must go. It seemed very hard, but there was no help for it. She had meant to ask him just how he had received that wounc and what he knew of Mr. Dent’s murder, Lat, somehow, could not bring herself to do it. Rising, she kissed his brow, and said, softly: “Good-night. I will see you again soon.” “When, Rachel?” he asked, eagerly. ‘TI shall count the moments. ‘You will not leave Me to suffer alone?” ¥ “‘Never, when I can help it. But I must not come too often. I might be seen, you know.” _ She went slowly out. Dr. Tremaine stood in the hall, with his hat and gloves on, waiting for her, “T could not let you remain any longer,” he said. “It would not have been well for you or him,” st : He looked so Rachel felt almost afraid of him. She suffer- ed him to slip her hand over his arm without one word of remonstrance. “T shall take you back to Fairlawn,” he said. “It would not be well for you to go alone.” Then they stepped out into the summer } night again, and threaded their way along the nearest path to Fairlavun. 1y.a word wasuttered. Dr. Tremaine walked on grave and silent. Rachel glanced eagerly up at him, once or twice, She wished he would speak to her fon so stern and cold. , that he would not look The white moon was shining on his face. It | wore an expression she could not anal nd so she sighed softly to hatiate and woth bt break the pore a ' At last the little wicket in the hedge-row was reached. Dr. Tremaine opened b diking ee Gbodnight,” be’ Torahiaaal -night,” he murm MOR ah y your courage, Rachel. I will do all’ that didn be done for you and him. Now go in; and take care that no one sees you or suspects where you have been.” ne He turned away, after having spoken this, and walked rapidly back along the path by . Which he had come. CHAPTER XXIL A FACE AT THE WINDOW, THE news of the murder spread like wild- fire through all that country. pale, stern and haggard that | = ‘ A. GIRL’S, HEART. Various were the surmises, the conjectures to which it gave rise. But,’ to the majority, the whole affair seemed wrapped in impene- trable mystery. The few who knew something of the facts kept them carefully concealéd. They wished to do so—all save one, and she was biding her time. The exception was Mrs. Heathcliff. To Colonel Heathcliff himself, Dent’s sudden death was something of a relief. But for the terrible manner in which it had occurred, there would have been no question in his mind. “* After all, I believe it’s better as it is,” he thought. ‘‘Dent was a bad man. He was doing no sort of good in the world. I thor- oughly distrusted him. Now, Rachel is saved from his clutches. The girl would have mar- ried him, in spite of us all, if this dreadful event had not occurred.” He knew very well that such a union would enly conduce to make Rachel’s whole life wretched beyond comparison. For his own part, he was growing to love the girl more and more. A thousand times had he wished she was his own daughter, that he might guard and watch over her with a parent’s affection. No father could have been fonder of her. ‘*Oh,” he would sigh, “if my own darlings had been spared tome, my little Eloise would have developed into just such another trea- sure!” He referred to twin children by a former marriage, who had met with the terrible fate of being burned to death in a sudden conflagra- tion. He was nearly as well as ever, now, but he would not, for one moment, think of giving up Rachel. She became more necessary to his happiness every day they were together. Mrs. Heathcliff realized something of all this. Of course she hated the girl all the more ‘| bitterly because her husband had grown so fond of her. *« A stop. must be put to all this,” she ‘wo’? often say to herself, with an angry snort. “It is madness, ruin, to have matters go’on in this way. I’ve sat passive long enough. » The time has come for me to act, and I will do it, too! Oh, you do not know what. agonies of remorse I have suffered, or you. would be kinder to me.” ‘*Remorse?” never forget. ‘Yes, on that impulsive fellow until his fury ‘cul- minated in a deed of horror,” Mrs. Heathcliff laughed somewhat shrilly. She was looking down at Grace steadfastly and luridly. “Tm going to set the officers of the law on the track of that wretch of whom you speak!” she whispered. ‘“‘Oh, mother!” cried Grace, clasping her hands wildly. _‘* You cannot! You will not!" ‘You will see.” “For my sake, mother, don’t do it.” “Bah!” sneered the’ angry: woman. you think I’m going to lose all the tricks in this desperate game, just because you have grown squeamish? No! I must work all the harder. I must fight for your interests, as well as mine.” Grace pressed her hands wildly over her heart. _ “Mother,” she cried, ‘‘hear me! I swear that I will never accept any good that comes to me in that way!” “You fool, you little fool!” I think Mrs. Heathcliff would have sworn, had she been a man. — As it was, she shook her jeweled hand more fiercely than ever, and scowled darkly upon her daughter. “You will not betray me?” she gasped. “You would not dare do that?” Poor Grace shook her head and burst into tears. “T cannot forget you are my mother.” “Humph! What an affectionate: child you are,” bowing and grinning. ‘‘Such filial devo- tion is without a parallel.” * Grace made no answer. ‘Let me eall to your mind one fact which you may have overlooked. You know as well | as I do that Dr. Tremaine is madly in love ‘ with Rachel, and that Dent’s death leaves her ‘ Oh, that I might crush them both—bhim and ‘ her—with the same blow! might!” Then she would clench her hands, and her face would grow purple with ‘passion, like the face of some Messalina. The inquest sat; Dent’s body was buried, and the day afterward Mrs. Heathcliff stalked stiffly into the apartment where her daughter ‘was’ sitting. , Grace,” she said, sharply, “‘what are we going to do? . “Do, mamma?’ Yes. Don’t echo my words, child; you know very well what I mean.” ‘ “But I don’t, though,” persisted Grace, changing color. “ You’re not blind. I’m speaking of Rachel and—and—that lover of hers. You can see the sort of footing that girl is gaining in this « house.” “ Yes,” * ’ “Colonel Heathcliff will adopt her, yet, and leave her all his money.” Grace started up. Her face was ghastly. * “Mother,” she said, in a very low voice, “would it be any more than justice if he were to do so?” The eyes of the mother and daughter met. - Mrs. Heathcliff dropped hers almost instantly. Oh; that I “Fool!” she snarled, shaking her hand wildly | in the air; “are you going to show the white feather?” - ‘ ‘“* At least I will never lend myself to any- thing mean or dishonest.” ) ' The firm, low tone was very impressive. Mrs. Heathcliff glared at the speaker, quite sock pina a 8 “* How long since you becameso scrupulous?” ely. she sneered. d “Since that night—that awful night,” shud- dered Grace. ‘‘I learned a lesson then I shall free to marry him.” ‘ Catching her breath sharply, Grace said in a — muffled voice: “Tt does.” tf: “She will marry him unless you and I do something to prevent it.” “Yes. They love each other. They ought tobe happy. God grant they will be.” ~ She could bear no more. She fled away, choking with sobs, quite overcome. Mrs. Heathc: ffs hard face did. not soften as she looked after her retreating figure. ‘‘Poor fool!” she muttered. ‘1 must get her over this stupid-way of thinking. She'll come out all right in a few days. Now, she is nervous and excited. It would be useless to argue with her. I must act for: us: both, and without any assistance from her.” She did act, and to some purpose, for that very day she was closeted with one of the po- | lice force, to whom she revealed much of what has'been transcribed in these pages, Rachel, meanwhile, all unsuspecting what a. persevering enemy she had in Mrs, Heathcliff, paid daily, or rather uightly visits to Dick— for she never went until near midnight, when everybody at Fairlawn was supposed to have retired. | This night she went as usual; Dr. Tremaine let her in, pale, grim, taciturn. It was always he who. met her at the door. . He would conduct her to the chamber where the wounded man lay, and then’ would -pace the hall until she came out again, when he ‘would fetch his hat and see her safely home again, This night Rachel looked inte his face longer and more curiously than susual, when he inet her at the door. Oh, how pale he was—how worn and thin! “He is bearing my burdens for me,” she thought, with a strange thrill and:a keen pain. © “T have made him very unhappy. | Oh, if I could only tell him all—if he would only give me the opportunity to tell him!” She raised her eyes to his with a wistful ex- I cannot forget it was I who goaded. “< Do:
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Per > te Ve. .. SA DPS ee. Las ‘the old friendly warmth that had been a part ‘his beautiful hair, so like bright, spun gold. _ all the ferocity of a wild beast. , vat last. A GIRL’S. HEART. pression in their pure, clear depths. He saw | sat with both hands clasped over her beating it, changed color, and quickly averted his own | heart. All her thoughts were of Dick and gaze. Dick’s peril. “Your friend is very restless to-night,” he Had he been tracked to Dr. Tremaine’s gaid, in his grave, quiet way. ‘‘ You must try _ house? And was he suspected of having borne to pacify him.” a part in that fearful night’s work when Mr. Rachel nodded. Dent had been murdered? ‘“‘-Yes,” she thought, ‘I will do that. But It was distraction to think of this possibility ywho is to comfort you?” atall. Her head grew hot and heavy as if she She turned away, feeling a vague sense of | were going mad. She could not answer Dick’s pain and misery. Where was the old freedom, | eager questions at all—she scarcely heard them. At last Dr. Tremaine came back. ‘‘T have searched the grounds thoroughly,” he said, ‘‘ but have found no one.” Then, after a minute’s silence, he went on, with his eyes bent fixedly upon her. ‘‘ What did yousee? You have not told me.” | “A woman!” | He started, stared a little, and repeated, under his breath: ‘‘A woman!’ The answer seemed to sur- prise him. What should a woman be doing there at that hour of the night? | Rachel drew nearer to him, still quivering all over, and whispered: ‘Tt was Mrs. Heathcliff! Mrs. Heathcliff!’ ‘*Tmpossible!’ | “Oh, I hope it was all a mistake. But some-_ thing tells me that woman is not my friend or | Dick’s.” Dr. Tremaine could not account for it, but he felt a suspicion of the same sort. ‘She is not our friend,” Rachel continued. | ‘¢She must have followed me when I came here | to-night; and if she did, she means harm to one or both of us.” ¢ j of their intercourse? Had this cold politeness ‘usurped its place again? . She passed in to Dick’s bedside, feeling tired and out of sorts. For the first time, she was cool and rather cross with him. ‘You are late,” he said, in a reproachful tone, as she bent over him, “T could not come earlier, You know, as well as I do, it is scarcely safe for me to come at all.” “You don’t love me,” he cried, looking at her fixedly. ‘‘ You begin to feel what a bur- denIam! I knew it would be so.” The glance and the words together melted her at once. . r «Oh, Dick, Dick,” she exclaimed, ‘‘ you know LI love you! Who else in all the wide world, could I love as I love you!” They kissed each other fondly. After a lit- ‘tle pause Rachel said: Y ‘¢ What have you told Dr, Tremaine?” “¢ Nothing.” She grew very grave, almost stern. : ‘Ts it quite fair, Dick? He has been so kind, ‘so good to us both.” I’m sure it was “Very kind.” She spoke wildly, incoherently, She scarce- “He ought to be told everything. It is his | ly knew what she was saying in the extremity | right.” of her terror and distress. Dr. Tremaine seemed perplexed, but he said, with quite a stern look: ‘‘Hush, You must aesspeak of Mrs. Heath- cliff in that manne: She is a lady. She would neve; dream vt making trouble for you | or him.” Noda..z slightly toward the bed where Dick was lying, he ;vent out. Rachel did not remain very late that night. She felt sick, frightened, tired, Dick’s con- versation wearied her. She could scarcely lis- ten to him. For the first time she felt almost sorry he had ever come nigh her. How much misery and heartache she might have been spared had he remained away from “You may do so safely.” Fairlawn! ; Another silence fell. The window, near the} She bade him a cold good-night, and so left ‘head of the bed, stood open, to admit the cool him. Dr. Tremaine walked back with her as night-air. Glancing up quickly, Rachel saw a sual, But he seemed colder and sterner than face—a woman’s face, framed in by the thick eyer. Even while he was walking at her side | ‘vines that clustered about it! _ it seemed as if seas of ice divided them. qed: 3 She slept little that night. The momentary CHAPTER XXII. “glimpse she had had. of the face at the window _ (THE BLOW FALLS... haunted her. In vain she sought to banish it. Ir was a white, cold, stern face that Rachel It was constantly recurring to her thoughts. gaw at the window, and a pair of pitiless eyes Was it Mrs. Heathcliff sho had seen? If so, | seemed to be glaring in at her and Dick with what would be the result of this espionage? . When morning dawned her perplexity had only deepened. Mrs. Heathcliff met her with one of her blandest smiles, when she went down-stairs at a late hour, and kissing her on the cheek, said softly: ‘How pale you are, my dear. I’m so sorry. I’ve ordered the carriage. You shall go out with me for a drive when you have eaten some She was leaning over him, smoothing down “TI hoped you would tell him, Rachel,” he whispered. She caught her breath quickly. A vivid scarlet flamed over cheek and brow, “T cannot! You know not what you ask.” Then, catching his wondering gaze, she said in a calm voice, that was still very firm: “It is your duty, Dick. I hope you will not shirk it!” : “No,” reluctantly. ‘And. you will tell him very soon—the ‘whole story?” sé es,” A shrill scream of terror brokefrom Rachel’s lips. She turned wildly toward the window. e face vanished. ~- “Oh, Dick!” she cried, and stood fixed where she was, like an image of death. He had seen nothing. “Why, Rachel—” he began. He got no further. The door was flung open suddenly, | breakfast.” ‘and Dr, Tremaine strode into the apartment. | Grace was standing near, at the time, She He had been pacing up and down the hall caught her mother’s words, When Mrs. Heath- outside, where Rachel’s shrill ery had reached cliff had left the room, she leaned quickly to- his ears. | ward Rachel, and whispered: “What has happened?” he demanded, look-| ‘‘ Don’t go with her!” ing y from one to the other. _ “Why ?’ said Rachel, opening wide her i to the open window. Fora , eyes. Y ‘moment she could not speak, but stood pant-| ‘(I don’t know,” coloring and_ hesitating. ing and trembling. | “Perhaps Lam very foolish, but it does seem “We have been watched,” she gasped out, to me that she wants your company for no : worl : Ver good purpose.” ‘ Dr. Tremaine seemed to understand, almost, . Rachel stared. These were very singular intuitively, what she had seen. He dashed to | words to come from the haughty beauty. the window, swung himself lightly over the “You are surprised to hear me speak in this gill, and disappeared. manner,” Grace wen) on. ‘‘I can see it in ‘Anintervalof some minutes élapsed.. Rachel your face. You have uot fully trusted me iy, | ¢ the past. But I do answer you that I am row your friend.” Her lip quivered. fhe turned away, but paused at the door to add: “T cannot tell you why I distrust my mo- ther’s metive in asking you to drive out with her, It is an intuitive feeling, though she has appeared strangely all the morning. I hope you will ponder what I have said to you.” Rachel did ponder it well; but she drew a deduction that was false. ‘Mrs. Heathcliff has something to say to me, I’m sure,” she thought, ‘Perhaps some- thing about Dick. I had better go with her.” It was nearly noon when they set out, Mrs. Heathcliff drove directly toward the village. She seemed to have a wonderful flow of spirits, There was something strained in her unnatural gayety. % With Rachel it was very different. She grew nervous, excited, Her heart almost ceased to beat when they approached Dr. Tre- maine’s cottage, and the horses’ heads were turned into the beech-lired avenue that led up | to it. “Where are we going?” she demandea, | Wildly. “Don’t be frightened, my dear,” Mrs. Heathcliff made answer, with a smirk. ‘ D’ye taken a fancy to pay Dr. Tremaine a morning visit—that’s all. Of course you don’t care? It’s all very proper, under the circumstances,” She shot Rachel a swift glance from under her half-closed lids, and the poor girl was com- pelled to reply: “You know best.” “Yes, my dear, I know best.” Nevertheless, Rachel trembled with appre- hension, The warning words Grace had utter- ed came back to her. She wondered why Mrs. Heathcliff had taken this sudden fancy. It looked as if some danger threatened Dick, ; But she dared not remonstrate, White as a lily, she followed Mrs. Heathcliff from the gerebeehs when it presently drew up before the oor. . Dr. Tremaine came out to welcome them. He gave Rachel a quick glance cf inquiry, and then said, pleasantly: “This is a surprise, Mrs. Heathcliff. I had not thought my poor little dwelling would be so graced.” She smiled, flirted her point-lace handker- chief, and returned; ( “JT was always curious to take a peep at your bachelor establishment. Ladies are per- mitted to cross its portals, I suppose?” “Oh, to be sure, They come like angels’ visits, however ¥nter, and let me make you welcome,” He flung wiv tins loors. Mrs, Heathcliff tripped lightly into the parlor, nodding for Rachel to follow. Her cheeks were all aflame and there was a peculiar sparkle in her bright, | dark eyes, She walked about the room, wondering and admiring. She did not notice, or else did not care, that no one else said an thing. Rachel sat pale and silent. She could scarcely controlherself. Mrs, Heathcliff often _ glanced in her direction, and each time, it seemed, more malignantly than before. At last there came a sudden roll of wheels up the drive, and heavy steps crashing on the gravel, Dr, Tremaine walked to the window and looked out. While he stood there the steps | pane tramping through the hail, © door was fl pen. SS entered. a al aol Dr, Tremaine confrontedthem. H but dignified, . ” isa ae “What means this intrusion?” he de- manded, “We have a warrant to search your house,” answered the foremost man, respectfully, « or what purpose?” “You must already be aware.” “T am not,” was the low, firm answer. _ “Then I will tell you,” said the man, glanc- ang quickly around the apartment, his eyes meeting Mrs. Heathcliff’s for a moment, as if ee
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A GIRL’S HEART. 21 seeking encouragement. ‘‘ We want to search your house because we have been told that the murderer of Edward Dent is hidden here!” CHAPTER XXIII. THE DARK HOUR. Art those horrible words, which the man ut- tered in a cool, even voice, Rachel hid her face, and gave a long, gasping sigh. She would have shrieked outright had not the necessity for self-control been forced so plainly upon her mind. Dr, Tremaine drew nearer to her, with a slow gliding movement. Presently he took one of her hands in his, and slightly pressed it. “Courage!” he whispered. Then, sternly confronting the men, who stood grouped about the door, he said: “*You wish to search the house for the mur- derer of Edward Dent. Friends, neighbors, is this kind: I: it right? Have I ever given you reasons to suspect me of doing anything unlawful?” * No, no,” cried two or three voices, “Think you I would harbor a criminal?” ‘No, no,” the same persons cried again. ‘Then I hope you will go away quietly, and not put this indignity upon me.” The first speaker glanced furtively at Mrs, Heathcliff again, and then said, a little grimly: “Tt is of no use, Dr. Tremaine. We must search the house, Those are our orders, which we are compelled to obey.” “Even though I give you my word of honor that you will find no criminal here?’ ‘Even then,” was the grim answer. . q tae man hesitated a little, adding, in a lower ne: “T trust you will not hinder us in the dis- charge of our duty, We have received posi- tive information that the person we seek is in is house.” _ Dr. Tremaine started slightly. After a mo- ment’s thought he bent over Rachel’s trembling figure, and said, softly: “‘We will save him yet, if possible. Calm yourself. I will take the men up-stairs, first of all. While we are there, you must slip into Dick’s room and get him out of the house. _ He can walk a little way, I am sure. Hide him in the shrubbery until these wretches are gone; thenI will come to you. Do you under- stand?” Lifting her ghastly face, she nodded, but did not speak, “ Are you strong enough to do it?” “Yes, lam strong. Go trust me. endure anything for Dick.” “You are his good angel. Ah, would that Thad the power to inspire such love!” Turning, as he spoke, he found Mrs. Heath- cliffs dark eyes fixed steadfastly upon his face, Something in their expression—a furtive, treacherous glance—made him shudder inyol- Uuntarily. “Come with me,” he said, addressing the men. ‘If my humble home is to be pro- - faned in this way, the sooner it is over the better.” Passing out at the door, he crossed the hall, and began to ascend the stairs, beckoning the men to follow. “Your search shall be thorough enough,” he muttered, sarcastically. “I’m going to take You from attic to cellar.” The men were preparing to follow him when . Heathcliff stopped them. ““My dear Dr. Tremaine,” she said, sweetly, “why put yourself to so much trouble? I 4m sure if these persons are permitted to Search the lower rooms they will go away Satisfied.” . y ; “The lady is right,” said the leader, in a voice. ‘We will confine our search to the Ower floor.” ; a hh 3 He stepped toward the. door of. the apart- ment where Dick was lying, and laid his hand On the knob. __ Dr. Tremaine sprung forward. “I beg you Will not go in there,” he said, earnestly. I could a “Why not, pray?’ “A very dear friend is lying ill in that room. Any excitement of this sort might prove fatal,” “Can’t help it,” returned the man, coolly. “ Duty is duty. Come on, boys.” The door creaked, swung on its hinges. An- other moment and the men had filed into the apartment. Rachel rushed past them all. She flung her- self down by Dick’s bedside, wringing her hands and crying out sharply: “Oh, Dick, Dick!” , The man in command leaned quickly over her, stared an instant at the invalid, and then said, with a grim smile: “ Boys, this is the fellow we are after. He fully answers the description that was given me.” Dick was now sitting bolt upright among the pillows. He. flung back his yellow hair, heavy and glistening like a lion’s mane, and demanded angrily: “What means this intrusion?” “ Tt means,” answered the officer, with a sneering laugh, “‘that you are to be taken away from your comfortable quarters and provided with others not quite so desirable.” He seemed to require no other explanation, The flush faded slowly from his face. He drew a long, sighing breath. “What have I done? Why have you come here to arrest me?” ““We arrest you for the murder of Edward Dent.” Dick’s handsome lip curled. He stared at the man a moment, and then broke into a low, faint laugh. “Odd,” he muttered, nonchalantly. ‘Things come out very differently from what we an- ticipate, sometimes. But I do assure you” (speaking now to the officer) “that you have made a mistake. I had nothing whatever to do with the death of the man in question.” “‘Of course you would say that,” was the sneering reply. ‘“‘ And I speak the truth in saying it.” “‘Humph! I hope you will be able to prove it ” Dick scorned to reply. He laid his hand softly on Rachel’s bowed head, and drew her closely to him. “Courage,” he whispered. ‘‘AH will yet be well. ‘They cannot condemn an innocent man.” She kissed him, and clung to him, sobbing and moaning as if her heart would break. “Oh, Dick, they can’t take youaway! They must not take you away!” “Hush! What matters it, after all? You can come to me in prison, just as you come to me now. And maybe you can help to prove r.< innocence.” Then, gently pushing her from him, he added: “Now go away for'a few moments. Of course these ruffians will let me dress before dragging me away.” : Rachel turned slowly from the bed. As sh did so, her eyes fell upon Mrs. Heathcliff’s sneering, triumphant face. At the sight, all her courage, her self-con- trol, gave way. She suddenly remembered all that this woman had doneto injure her. With one long, shrill scream, she ran forward and confronted her. “This is your work!” she cried. ‘I see it allnow, The faceat the window—you have ae always hated me—you meant to harm me in | some way! It was you who betrayed Dick!” Mrs. Heathcliff started, paled perceptibly, looked as if she were tempted to strike the girl, and then screamed suddenly: “She’s mad! fainted,” . . a “ Tt'was trie. Dr. Tremaine took her in his; ‘arms, held her there white and still, close, close to his beating heart, and as he turned-to “bear her from the room, he said: “Poor girl! She had a right to accuse you, Catch her, somebody! She’s | wit i ¥- vr - é a The woman did not answer. She flushed purple, drew herself up haughtily, but finally followed Dr. Tremaine from the room, and aided in restoring Rachel. “You have no right to judge me,” she said’ to Dr. Tremaine, when the girl’s senses were: coming back to her. ‘What possible object could I have in persecuting that poor wretch in yonder?” Dr. Tremaine shook his head. “T do not know.” ‘*] should say not. stranger to me. I never saw him until to- da ” Bhe met Dr. Tremaine’ searching gaze un- shrinkingly. Had she spoken the truth, or was she the most artful creature in existence? He had no time to argue the question. Ra- chel was just then claiming all his attention. She had opened her ayes, and was glaring wildly all round. “Where am I?” she asked. sudden cry broke from her. “Dick, Dick! Iremember it all now. _ Oh,, my God!,; Where is he, Dr. Tremaine? What have they done with him?” “He is still in the house,” was his reply. “But they are going to take him away?” He nodded. She rose up slowly. <A scarlet spot burned in either cheek. 1 ‘IT shall go with him,” she said, in a low, determined tone. He attempted to dissuade her, but it was of no use. she had taken, “Dick needs me,” was her plea. “He is | sick and in trouble. Do you think I could de- sert him at such a time? My God! Who else, in all the wide world, could make my place. good to him?’ Then a low, oe CHAPTER XXIV. FAITHFUL LOVE'S REWARD, Dick was taken to the county jail in the carriage that had been brought for that pur- pose. Dr, Tremaine himself brought pillows and blankets, and saw that everything was ar-- Why, he’s an utter She was firm as a rock in the decision. | ranged as comfortably as possible for the . wounded man. Rachel rode in the same conveyance, sup-- | porting Dick’syhead in her lap, and with his: dear hand clasped tightly in her own. What. eared she for the curious eyes bent upon her as: the carriage moved slowly through the: streets? Dr. Tremaine followed on horseback. He reached the jail at the same moment with the others, and was ready to assist in removing Dick to a cell. Mrs. Heathcliff had returned to Fairlawn. She did not choose to be mixed up in the affair any more than was nec 7 Dick’s wound had been healing rapidly dur- | ing the few days he had remained under Dr.. | Tremaine’s roof. But he was still very weak, . lowing day. his gloomy cell, and there the three were left alone together, . “I wish I could remain with you, Dick,” sobbed Rachel, very white now, and trembling violently, “‘{ wish I need not leave you alone in this dreadful place!” ‘*Poor Rachel!” said Dick. She flung her arms about his neck. “*T won’t leave. you!” she cried. ‘They will | not be so cruel as to tear me away! _ I will not. leaye.you!”. oar atet ; Dr. Tremaine had been standing slightly apart from them. But-he now came forward h.a strange expression upon his pallid face. “Do you wish to remain so very much?” he . nt I YOM" « 41 ceriod of Sais os He hesitated, gesbed gage 9 fwicerand then “There is one way in which: your wish can. Mrs, Heathcliff. You have been all—done all | be gratified.” —that she said.” “One way?’ — , and at his earnest request the preliminary ex- - amination was to be postponed ‘until the fol-- ‘Rachel and Dr. Tremaine went with him to
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a een alee * 4 “iti 22 “Yes, You know it would not be right or ‘proper for you to remain as you are,” ‘‘ And the way of whieh you.speke?” Forcing the words from his white, quivering , ever was more faithful or self-sacrificing.” lips, he made answer: ‘You must marry him!” Rachel stared wildly at these words, and from Dick’s lips fell a low, faint laugh. ‘IT see I have startled you both,” Dr. Tre-. maine went on. any such step. Indeed I should greatly regret But it is the only way in which you-two can be together.” Dick held ‘out his hand, now choking back something that sounded like a sob. P i | | | | own life to keep it. ‘‘ Remember, I do not advise , | { | A GIRL'S HEART. ‘orward. He took Rachel’s hand, kissing it, fondly. .. | : ‘The secret concerns only myself,” he went on... ‘But Rachel.would have given up her Can you not guess now why she, consented to marry a. man she both hated and despised? Can you not. guess why she consented to marry him you have known as Edward Dent?” ‘Yes, yes,” said Dr. Tremaine, eagerly. “That wretch knew everything. I was in his power. He could have given, me into the ‘‘You’re a noble fellow, Dr. Tremaine,” he | clutches of the law at any moment. He would said, have cost you. But you can spare yourself further pain, I have no wish to marry Ra- chel, and could not, if I would, for the simple reason that she is my own sister!” Dr. ‘Tremaine started as if he had been struck, He could only stare wonderingly at a fa our sister?” he gasped. ** Yes, my twin-sister.” He staggered, and sat down on one of the rude stools with which the place was provided. Great drops came out upon his forehead. He was shaking all over. He could scarcely be- lieve the strange news he had heard. But gradually his face changed, An expres- gion of wild joy broke all over it. A dozen little circumstances seemed to convince him, all at once, that Dick had spoken the truth. ‘“‘Oh, I am glad, so glad!” he cried. He looked up. His eye caught Rachel’s for a moment. He saw her start, and a sudden flood of crimson rush over her face. ‘My darling!” he whispered, holding out bis arms, all unmindful of Dick’s presence. ‘“‘ My precious one! I believe you do love me, after all.” Rachel tottered-forward, and fell upon his breast, sobbing wildly. And yet a strange peace and happiness had dawned suddenly upon her heart. For a little while not another word was spo- ken. The lovers seemed to understand so well all that the other would have said, there was little need of speech. The vail had been: rent away from their lives, as if by a miracle, and at last they stood face to face and soul to soul, ao things open as | the day. , a Dick drew apart into one of the remote cor- ners, and sat down with his face covered. He understood perfectly what transports were in those long-sundered hearts. He had guessed Rachel’s secret long before, . “They will be happy,” he thought, with a' “weary sigh. ‘Thank God for that! No mat-| ter what new bitterness life may have in store — for me, they will be happy.” He tried to rejoice, but I fear some dreary | pictures of his own desolate, loveless future did flit across his mental vision. 5 At last he heard Dr, Tremaine say softly: | ‘* Rachel, all things are growing so plain to me! And yet you have not uttered a word of explanation. I believe you have loved me all the while.” ‘All the while,” she answered, in a low, cooing voice. “‘ And you have wornthis mask to hide from ' me the sacrifice you were making?” She did not answer, but looked into his face with such an earnest, pleading expression that’ he covered her lips with remorseful kisses. . “Why did you not trust me, Rachel? You might have done that, ‘You must have known I would not see you suffer.” “ How could I?’ she faltered. . ‘¢ For the very reasoa that you loved me so! Ah, foolish child! No one could have mis- judged your innocent heart.” =~ Rachel smiled through her tears, bus made answer? «The secret was Dick’s more than mine, I “JT. can guess what ‘such words must . have done so but for Rachel... She stepped be- tween us, and gave herself up in my stead,” | CHAPTER XXV, DICK’S. STORY. THERE was a brief silence in the room, . Jn- stinctively, Dr. Tremaine drew Rachel’s quiv- ering figure still more closely to him, as if he would fain shield her from all further sorrow. And so he would have shielded her, with his own heart’s blood, if necessary. “Tell me your story, Dick,” he said. only regret you did not tell it sooner,” **So do I,” answered the youngman. ‘ But how could I be sure it was best? [have known you such a little while! To be sure you have been very kind. You have kept me hidden away from my enemies, dressed my wounds, and watched over me as carefully as a brother would have done. But, when a man carries | with him such a secret as mine, he is very | loth to part with it,” He laughed as he spoke, a low, bitter laugh, scarcely pleasant to hear, **T would have been faithful to the trust,” sald Dr. Tremaine. ‘‘ For Rachel’s sake, if not | for yours.” “J believe you.” ‘Perhaps I can do something to help you, even yet. Tell me everything.” “Listen. It is time I had made a full con- | fession.. God help and pity me!” f He was hiding his face with his trembling hands, and did not see the quick shudder that | ran over each of his auditors. | * Are you strong enough to tell the story?” | interrupted. Dr, Tremaine, eagerly. ‘You ; must not excite yourself too much, You have | passed through a good deal already.” ri | “I can pass through even more. Indeed, I would rather. make a clean breast of every- thing. See, I am strong—quite strong.” He drop his hands, and turned his pale face upon them, forcing a smile to the blood- less lips. ; Dr, Tremaine went up to him, and drew his - head down upon. his shoulder, | ‘‘Rest here, Dick,” he said, compassionately, | ‘“You need this support. Now go on with what you have to tell me.” * “I must begin very far back in my history, Dr. Tremaine, but I do not intend to w you with a long-drawn-out story. “Rachel and Ican remember nothing of our parents, Even the name we bear may be a borrowed one, As far back as our recollec- tion goes, we lived with one Madame Gale in her cottage, not far from this place.” ** Yes, I know her,” said Dr. Tremaine. “Madame did not know anything of our pa- , rentage, or at least wouid tell us nothing. But | she was kind to us, in her way, and gave us | every advantage. | “The years wore on quietly enough until I | ‘was sixteen, some sort, I could see she did not want me at the cottage any longer. I had a thirst for travel and adventure. At last she yielded to my solicitations, and sent me to India, “T think now she had, for a long time, been secretly working upon my mind in such a man- ner that I should readily turn to that far-away quarter of the globe. “At any rate to India I went. Madame gave mea letter of introduction to one Edward LL § Then madame was in trouble of | ed “ Yes,” peda Dick, sine rising and. coming Lasalle, the same you have known as Edward “This dear girl deserves to wear | Dent. Of course I sought him, on arriving in ‘| the crown of a martyr... No canonized, saint Calcutta. ‘He pretended to be a warm friend of mine before Lhad known him a week—a little too ‘warm to be sincere I thought at the time: He found me a place ina merchant’s office where I was soon able’ to command a good salary. “Everything went. on smoothly enough for a year or two. Then money was missing from the counting-room of my employer. Suspicion pointed me out as the thief, and I was, power- _ Jess to prove my innocence, “Of course I was discharged, having barely escaped arrest. Lasalle still clung to me. He got me out of that part of the country, and finally prevailed on me to enlist in the English service. “T had no taste for military life, and should never have dreamed of it but for Lasalle, He was here my evil genius, as, I am confident, he had been before. Evil reports were soon in circulation concerning me. I think he spread ' them, though all the while pretending to be my devoted friend. “There was one man in the regiment who had conceived a special dislike to me, His name was William Flint, but.he was generally called Black Billy among our comrades, partly because of his complexion, and partly because he was coarse, brutal, secretive in his nature. “From the very first, this man seemed bound to quarrel with me. I did not suspect it then, but I know now he was really Lasalle’s tool, and only carrying out instructions given him by his employer. “For months I succeeded in avoiding him. But one fatal morning, when I had been drink- ing, we met in a coffee-house in the town where we were stationed. ‘Black Billy was unusually insulting: One word led to another. Finally he taunted me with being a counting-house thief, a light-fin- alled gered scoundrel. “You can guess what followed. ? | the fellow out. We fought—he fell—and ieicg | ing to the impulse of the moment, I fled with the mark of Cain upon my brow.” He paused a moment to wipe the clammy beads from his forehead. “Good God! howI have suffered since that fatal hour!” he cried ‘out, sharply, “I might better have endured a thousand deaths, One long vight of torment has been my portion. “T sought Lasalle, in my trouble. He’strip- ped the mask from his face, and told me to be- gone, he had no fellowship with murderers. He did even more than that. He collected all | the proof he could find against me; he hunted me down like a fox. If he learned I had found a covert he cruelly drove me from it. “ Ah, how I learned to loathe that ma when I comprehended the double part he had He had meant to ruin me ail the while. I was sure of it. It was at his instigation, I am positive, that the theft was committed.” “ What could have been his objeet in ruining you?” asked Dr. Tremaine, Dick slowly shook his head, “T cannot tell. Tt all seems very strange. And yet Icould not help thinking he wasall the while working out the will of somebody here.” ‘* Not Madame Gale?’ ‘*No, I scarcely think it was Madame Gale, though she may have been aware of the whole plot. I amsure it was some person of greater influence than madame,” “Why should you think so?” “T cannot tell you. It was a vague suspi- cion, confirmed by the fact that Lasalle warn- me against returning to my native land. He swore he would have me arrested jus 80 surely as I attempted any such step.” “Did he giveany reason for this opposition?” ‘* None.” “You braved his power, and did return?” / “Ay, at last. I longed to see Rachel. I could keep:away no longer, and so ran the risk I did.” ‘Lasalle, or Edward Dent, as he is called, followed you?” EE
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‘ “Yes. He saw Rachel, and fell in love with her. From that moment his plans must have taken a new turn. He offered her my life and liberty if she would marry him.” “ Ah!” cried Dr. Tremaine, between. his shut teeth. _ Abrief silence followed. Rachel was cry- ing softly, She saw how terribly her brother must have suffered, and her heart bled for him. She did not regret anything she had done for him, At last Dr. Tremaine spoke again. We have heard enough of the past,” he said. Now tell me of that night.” The night when Lasalle was murdered?” asked Dick, calmly. *'Yos.?? _ He trembled a little. So did Rachel. Both were longing to hear his story of what had happened then, told in hisown way. And yet neither one nor the other had dared ask for the particulars before. Rachel had shrunk from the subject with a horror akin to fear. Seeing this, Dick had spared her all allusion to the subject. Of . Tremaine he had never felt disposed to make a confidant, until this moment. Butnow he began to tell the story ina strange- ly calm, collected way. He spoke of meeting Grace in the garden, and repeated what she had said to him, “That was my first intimation of Lasalle’s Purpose to marry Rachel,” he wenton. ‘I was angry, desperate. I don’t know what I might not have done in the madness of the moment, . “While fleeing wildly through the shrub- bery, I heard a pistol-shot close at hand, I Sprung into the glade where the murder was Committed, and there I saw Lasalle, weltering in his own: blood, and a horrible-looking did woman scanding over him.” * achol started up with a suppressed shriek. A woman! Oh, Dick, Dick!” and she flung her arms about him, sobbing hysterically. _-fen you did not fire the fatal shot?—you did noty? | “*T did not,” he answered, firmly. “Thank God!” she ietaiaat “oh, thank for that)” Why did you suspect me?’ he demanded, almost angrily, ‘Was I not wounded myself? How could that have happened if I had shot him dead at my feet?” it might—I thought—you might have received your wound in the first place,” she faltered, But I did not, The woman struck me with a knife she must have taken from Lasalle’s person.” “Oh, yes, yes,” “She turned upon me like a fury, asI ran up. TL recognized her at a glance, for she was no stranger to me, There was sufficient light &é for that purpos you etember,” The moon was nearly full, asked Srna you seen the woman before?” “Tn In dia, Her ‘ was Lasalle’s name is Jane Bell. She that. was mibby eee d wife, I believe. But years ago—when she was a younger and prettier won, s and was desperately woman, She loved him, more than once, if he ever dared marry: ri has been little better than a melee: ‘or several years. Indeed, sh Crazy rnant:s eed, she was known as And she killed Lasalle, or eee himself?” ee eed think so. She must have heard of hi: contemplated marriage. But I have not the ae idea how she tracked him to the 2, | “ Ast said, I reeognized her instantly. The recognition was mutual, ‘Ah,’ she screamed, you have dogged me here to betray me! You Rae drag me back again. But you shall “Then she sprung upon me, and inflicted the wound from which I suffer before I could help dr I grew suddenly sick and faint, and uid Only crawl into the shrubbery and hide t uae A‘ GIRL’S HEART. myself there. She was stilt’ standing beside the dead body when I saw her last.” ‘She must be found,” said’ Dr. Tremaine. ° Rachel did not speak. But she drew Dick’s face down to her own, and their lips met in a long, clinging kiss, “God bless you, my sister,” he whispered. God had blessed her, for the night of her sorrow was over, and in the eastern horizon of her life she saw the promise of a glorious | dawning. CHAPTER XXVI. CONFESSION. Tue next morning Dr. Tremaine began the | search for Jane Bell. it was poor Dick’s only chance for life and liberty—the finding of this wretched, forlorn creature. It seemed very hard, but then the innocent must not suffer for the guilty, It wasa wild, wet morning, the rain beating against the casements, the wind howling fear- fully among the great trees surrounding the house, Dr. Tremaine cared little for the inclemency of the weather. With a great cloak buttoned securely about him, he sallied forth, taking a short cut to the glade where the murder had been committed. He had somewhere read or heard of the sin- gular mania that induces some murderers to haunt the scene of their crime, and had set out with this forlorn hope in his mind. His brain was busy., He thought over the story Dick had toid him the day before, from beginning to end. Strange suspicions came to him as he did so. Was Mrs. Heathcliff mixed up in this affair? Ifso, to what extent? Was it she who had induced Lasalle to play such a treacherous part to Dick? He would have given much for the power to solve this mystery. But it was impenetrable. He scarcely knew why he had dreamed of con- necting Mrs. Heathcliff with it inany manner, except her eagerness for Dick’s arrest, for he could no longer doubt but that she had really been at the window that night when Rachel thought she saw her. Though his brain was burdened with all this mystery, he walked firmly on, through marsh and mud and mire, the wind wailing in his ears, and the rain splashing all about him on the leaves and grasses. He: reached the glade. A poor, forlorn creature sat crouching’ underneath the tree in the middle. He caught a glimpse of a dirty, mud-bespattered gown, and straggling gray locks falling:over a paix of crooked shoulders, then went softly up and stood beside the pitiful Ggure, ** My poor woman,” he said, gently. At the sound of his voice she started up wildly and sought to fly. But, her limbs re- fused to support her. “She tottered, and fell back moaning into his outstretched arms, “T know you,” she cried, shrilly. ‘‘ Blood, blood, blood! It has found voice at last, as I knew it would. It rises up from the ground and screams for vengeance. You have heard it, and are come to take me away with you.” She was drenched to the skin; her face ashy pale; her eyes wild and bloodshotten. They turned upon Dr. Tremaine with a truly mani- acal glare. ‘Poor creature,” he said, ‘do not look at me like that. I have no wish to harm you.” “What!” she cried, ‘You didn’t come to hang me? I know better. Isn’t it written, ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’? And doesn’t it mean, too, a life for a life?” She laughed at her own cunning, a low, harsh, terrible laugh, “Yes,” he answered. ‘But it is also writ- ten, ‘love your enemies,’ ”’ A sudden change swept over her face. She dropped it into her hands, and began rocking | her body violently to and fro, for she had re- leased herself from Dr, Tremaine’s arms, and | was sitting on the damp ground again, ‘I told him I would do it,” she murmured, as if talking to herself, told him I would do it, I should have died myself if another had taken my place and / < aan ed borne the name that was rightfully mine. And so I killed him. Yes, I killed him!” she cried, in loud, startling tones, lifting her ashy face once more. ‘*He stood yonder, where those daisies are trampled down, and I shot him dead at my feet! I killed him—i killed him! God forgive me—I killed him!” She flung up her arms wildly, shrieking out ; the last words in a perfect frenzy, ; ‘‘Hush,” said Dr. Tremaine, soothingly. “You must not excite yourself.” ‘“‘T killed him,” she repeated, over and over again. ‘‘It was the only way to make him | mine in this world and the next.” “Whom did you kill?” “T thought you knew. My husband—Ed- ward Lasalle, Ha, ha, ba! The bonny young bride he had chosen must wear widow’s weeds before ever she was a wife. Ha, ha, ha!” ‘*Hush,” said Dr, Tremaine, speaking stern- ly, this time. ‘‘ You shall not talk so.” But she went on wildly raving, in spite of him. For some minutes he sat. quite still, listening. Then his mind was suddenly made up. This poor wretch was dyi She could not live many hours; she was past human justice —beyond the yeach of human laws. She should be made to confess her guilt before witnesses, and save poor Dick from an ignominious fate. He drew off his dripping cloak and wrap- ped it tenderly about her, : “Remain here a little while,” he said. “I with me, and you shall be made nice and warm.” , She did not demur. I doubt if she fully ' understood him; she sat patient and submis- sive as a child while the cloak was being wrap- ped about her; in fact she was too helpless to have resisted. ‘ Dr. Tremaine hurried for assistance, Seve- ral men returned with him, bringing a sort of litter upon which the poor woman was convey- ed to the house, and placed in the very apart- ment Dick had vacated less than twenty-four hours previously. She was provided with dry clothing and every possible comfort. was performed, Dr. Tremaine remembered his duty'to Dick. He sent for the proper of- ficers that they might hear her dying confes- sion, The day wore on, and night fell early. In the stcrm and darkness, Jane Bell’s soul went out to meet its Maker, a But she had a few rational moments before she died, She made ample confession, thus clearing Dick of all reproach, Though the murder had been committed in one of her wild- est moments of insanity, she remembered ail the circumstances perfectly. Lasalle had threatened her and tried to force her to leave the neighborhood in that manner, Failing in intimidating her, he had drawn a pistol, swearing at her fearfully the while. This weapon she had managed to snatch from him, and with it had ended his miserable life. It was the impulse of self-preservation, per- haps, that had induced her to turn upon Dick, bey he made his sudden appearance in the 4 She had fled herself, on hearing footsteps approach a second time, and, since that fatal day, had been lurking in the neighborhood, frequently visiting the scene of the murder. — She made other confessions, such as her inti mate knowledge of Lasalle’s life had made her acquainted with. , What those confessions were will soon be re- vealed. Suffice it now to say that they were perfectly satisfactory to Dr. Tremaine. In the early dawn of the following morn- ‘ing, ha sought the jail where Dick was confined. The two held a rapturous meeting, and in less than an hour’s time Dick had left those gloomy | walls behind, and trod the streets, a free man *T loved him, but I once again. His first thought was of Rachel. She had returned to Fairlawn to pass the night, . ele am going for help, '’ Then Iwill take you home When. his duty to the really dying woman — \'
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Ss wy fen oy 418 this will make her,” he exclaim- ed, and made haste to tell her the Joyous news. Dr. Tremaine accompanied him. ere were cir- cumstances that rendered his presence at Fairlawn very desirable. j CHAPTER XXXVI. UNWINDING THE THREADS. Ir was a beautiful morning that followed that day and night of storm. he sweet landscape and bush-green garden were ’ full of beauty and peace and glory—guch glory as r vl “Fou are Jesting. God ever gives to nature and to man after conflict - and wrestling. Mrs. Heathcliff sat alone in her handsome parlor, brooding mgm § over her plans, when the door was flung open, and Madame Gale stood before her. Pay ,” cried madame, abruptly, with a shrug and’a mace, “there must be an end of all this!” “ All what?” sneered the haughty woman. “You know very well what I mean. That man in poeter jail is Dick Clyde; and you helped to put fet there. Nay, don’t shake your head, for I know etter,’ Mrs. Heathcliff drew back, flushing a little. ‘And so-you have heard of that little cireum- stance?’’ she said; ‘‘and y,ou guessed the prisoner was Dick?” “Yes,” sharply; ‘‘ but I did not hear the particu- lars until this morning. You are cruel and vindic- tive, Pauline. But if you sacrifice that man it shall go hard with you.” “Bah! Have you turned pleader?”’ is No, I do not plead, I demand his life at your hands.”’ Mrs. Heathcliff started and bit her lip, ‘| “What do you mean by whipping about in this way?’ she asked. * ‘“To see justice done those poor children,” was the stern reply. ‘' You and I have wronged them enough already. Idon’t take another step in this nefarious business. Bring about that man’s re- lease, and quickly, too, or I disclose everything.” Mrs. Heathel retreated a step or two. Her face was horrible to look upon, so much vindictive e and fury could be seen flashing through it. * she said, slowly, with a harsh og, “You would never be such a fool!” “T never jest, Pauline,” _. “You have been faithful to me so many years— you have identified yourself so fully with my cause—” ay “True,” interrupted Madame Gale, bitterly. ‘‘ For Sg your sake I have been almost as vile alsinner as ourself. But, all things must have anend. Lre- use to be your scapegoat any longer.” She paused, drop her eyes, and set her teeth YS be rai in a determined way that made Mrs. Heath- cliff tremble. At this instant the bell rang seatniy and heavy footsteps crossed the hall. e door was pushed slightly ajar and Dr. Tremaine looked in. Then he turned back for a moment, “Is Colonel Heathcliff Yes, sir,’ was the answer. ; “Then ask him to come to the parlor directly, I must see him on matters of the first importance.” be The bs ie of the two women met. Mrs. Heathcliff - ch color. : can he want of my husband?” she said, in. ash whisper. Machine did not answer. There was a moment's torturi suspense, and then the door opened a second time. Dr. Tremaine entered. A young man was lean- ny upon his arm—a tall, handsome, young fellow with violet eyes and hair hke spun gold, so soft and ’ bright and silken. ‘ a Heathcliff started at sight of him, stared Ns wildly, and a sharp cry burst from her lips. bs “What oes this mean?” she demanded, quaking Rt with evident terror. z: Dr. Tremaine led Dick to a seat—for of course i a: was Dick himself who was with him—and saw tha fs he wy comfortably established before making any ; ie, a he said coolly: E “What has . d eom Mrs. Heathcliff? I a have merely broug end of mine for a morn- Re ith an effort of will worthy a hetter cause the guilty woman brought the color back to her lip and. ci heek. ' ~“Indéed!? she sneered. “Perhaps you will be good enough to mention the name of your friend!’’» “He is commonly known as Dick Clyde.” Mrs. Heathcliff turned in a well-assumed atti- tude of recoil. : ‘ “Good heavens!” she cried. ‘* You are mad, Dr, Tremaine. Why bave you brought that murderer here? I thought he was pate lodged in jail.’ “Dick is no murderer,”’ said Dr. Tremaine. Then he was silent. ‘Mrs. Heathcliff’s wonderful composure surprised him. He could not help ad- miring this one attribute of her character. It dis- posed him to be lenient as possible with her. While he stood silent be ' rplexed, cena re situation in his own mind, there was a rustle outside fee price aot opened. Aud Colonel Heathcliff slowly crossed the threshold. ; : He was followed by Rachel and Grace. The * yo ee had ipoccompintns Li Tremaine’s arrival with rom an upper window. ’ ' Rachel rushed forward erly, bursting into tears of joy as she flung herself on the floor y her brother’s chair. Qh, Dick, Dick!” she cried. ‘‘ You are here—and r fy-e/ Thank God--thank God!” f Colonel Heathcliff stood breathless, fixed as stone, glaring wildly at the young man “That face—that hair—that soft, bright, wonder % : - j y , able to leave his room?’” prs the two women heard him ask of the servant. ful hair!” he faltered, pressing both hands over his throbbing temples. { Dr. Tremaine crossed to his side. His resolve was ieee ne He could not witness the man’s emotion un- moved. ** You have seen another face like Dick’s—other hair like his?’ he queried. ‘*Yes,” was the faint reply. ‘* Whose?” “The wife of my youth—the dear woman who is now a saint in heaven. Good God, how like—how wonderfully like!” At this moment Mrs. Heathcliff stepped forward. ed — was ashy white. She trembled from head ‘oot. “Come away!” she said, hoarsely, endeavoring to take her husband’s hand. “ This is no place for you. You are not strong—you must not excite yourself.” ‘* Wait!” cried Dr. Tremaine, in a loud, stern voice, **T have a question to ask before you go. Colonel yr did you have children by your first mar- age?’ The agitated man bowed his head. “Twins—a boy and a girl?” “Yes,” answered Colonel Heathcliff. “ Whiutlecame of them?” A convulsive shudder shook his frame. ‘“Theirs was a terrible fate,’’ he said, in a broken, hollow voice. ‘I was compelled to leave home on business. ied were in the charge of an experienced nurse. While I was away the house burned to the ground, and my two precious, babes were burned ve!” A groan burst from his lips as he uttered those last words—a cry of bitter anguish. Dr. Tremaine’s face grew radiant. He caught his breath sharply, once or twice, before he could com- mand himself to speak. “My friend, my noble friend,” he said, at last. “cheer up; I believe your children are alive an well this moment,” “ Alive? Alive?’’ gasped the wondering man, while a wild shriek of dismay and terror broke from Mrs. Heathcliff. “Yes, They were saved from the fiery death that threatened them. They have lived to grow up, and poo behold them before you in Dick and Rachel Olyde pr A moment’s dead silence followed. Slowly the conviction forced itself home upon Colonel Heath- cliff’s mind that Dr. Tremaine had spoken the truth. He started, tottered, then rushed wildly forward. ‘Oh, my children!’’ he shrieked, and the three were locked in a close embrace. * 5 My father!’ murmured Dick and Rachel, in one reath. _ Mrs. Heathcliff leaned forward and fixed her eyes pon them in astare that had nothing human or lifelike about it. She was ashy white, and a clammy sweat had broken out upon her forehead. At last she roused herself. The power of voli- tion came back to her trembling bs, and she ge ae wildly at the three figures clasped so closely together, a Tt is false!” she shrieked, ‘It is false, my hus- band. Come away. lies these people are Madame Gale had not with a calm, unmoved face throughout the scene, “Tt is true!’ she said, now, in a low, firm voice. “Pauline, cease to strugele red fate. God is working out His own . I knew this must all come to pass, sooner or later. I shall own up to everything. You had better do the same.” A shiver ran over Mrs. Heathcliff. She glared into the white, wondering faces she saw all around her. Then with her jeweled hands shaking wildly at Soe ain and a dreadful shiver in her voice, she d: ** "Be it so. I confesseverything. J’m a lost, ruined acoman |”* She turned slowly and with difficulty, and left the room. They heard her glide feebly up the. stairs, lling you!” and a door above shut sharply. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE END OF-AL ‘ Mapame Gate broke the silence that followed Mrs. Heathcliff’s sudden departure. Heaving a long-drawn sigh she said: ‘Let us end this wretched seene as quickly as pos- sible. I know the truth must. be told. r. Tre- maine, let me att Ses tell it.”” Colonel Heathcli Taised his head, looking at-‘her keenlysoc oh 14 , “ * It is true, then—it is true that these are my chil- dren?” he cried, eagerly. “Tt is true,’ she answered. Then, turning to Dr. Tremaine, she added; “There were only two or three persons in all. the world who knew that those babes were saved from the burning building. Who revealed to you the se- cret?”’ ; _ ; “A woman known as Jane Bell. She was the wife of the man who called himself Edward Dent, but whose true name was Lasalle, Of course, she be- came possessed of a great many of his secrets. She did not know the whole story, but she had learned enough, so that Ireadily gurecd the truth from her accoum. Tt could do no harm, at least, to act upon the convictions to which her narrativé gave rise.” e bobbed her head and made an odd gri- mace Ge, “Listen,” she said, presently. “I’m going to tell the whole truth. But you must promise not to mo- lest Pauline—Mrs. Heathcliff.”’ “This is not my affair,” answered Dr. Tremaine, gravely. “I may help to right wcongs, but not to punish offenses.’” ~ ¢ ‘Pauline must be spared and forgiven, Sheismy sister.” L. You surely will not believe the’ ken, She had stood He divides his time between his two children, never ‘Your sister?” echoed Colonel Heathcliff, . _‘* My own sister,” answered madame, bobbing and! smiling. ‘I know you are surprised. But it was: her hh viirns re relationship He secret, Of course I su ; ere were good reasons why I should do so. ; . ring “Pauline knew and loved you, Colonel Heathclifi, wheh you were unmarried. “You married, and she, out of sheer des , followed your example, Sin- gularly enough, she lost her esha within a month of the time when you buried your wife. q ‘From that moment she set herself to the task of , who fired the house and then stole your children from the burning build- ing. He was not hardened enough to Id them. Nor did Pauline wish it—for he was acting under her inet The child gi ‘The children were given into my care. Nobody suspected their existence, and it faa an easy tod to keep the secret of their parentage. Pauline had bribed me heavily. Besides, she was poor, and I would have done anything to help her. She hated the children, because of their mother. She wished | her a daughter to become the heiress of your’ wealth. ‘Well, you married Pauline, after the lapse of a year or two, She accomplished her object. } ‘“*T need not dwell on the events of the years that followed. It was fate that brought you here to- Fairlawn—it was fate that threw Rachel in your way—it was fate that brought about the strange at that have been transpiring in our midst.” “Nay,” said Dr. Tremaine, in a solemn voice, “not fate, but God.” Rachel clung closely to her new-found father, and whispered: “T understand now why I was so singularly drawn to you, from the first. Some subtle instinct seemed to tell me that we were not as strangers.” “And you crept into my heart, at once, dear child,” said Colonel Heathcliff. ‘‘God has been ven kind to me; now, I have both my children.” ie said not a word of his wife, or the treachery of which she had been guilty. But there was pain inn ty with the rapture written upon his counte- ce, Grace had witnessed all this scene in a perfect agony of shame and humiliation. She crouched in the furthest corner, hiding from every eye. At last she rose slowly; she crept up-stairs to her mother’s room. Mrs. Heathcliff lay there amon the velvet cushions of the couch, one white hell hand shading her face.” Grace went up to her. “Mother,” she said, ‘‘ we have each other. I will never leave you; I can forgive everything. In this hour of humiliation, let us kneel here together, and promise God to mend our wicked lives.” There was no answer, She lifted the jeweled hand; it fell from hers like lead. Mrs. Heathcliff was dead, anda faint, sweet, sick- ening odor, that pervaded the room, betrayed the secret of her tad. winning you. It was It requires very few words to chronicle happiness. —even such rare peace as had fallen to the lot of these, our sometime friends. Every trouble has fallen avey from sweet Rachel’s” pathway, and now, with the strong arm of Dr. Tre- maine to-lean upon, her days glide by, full of placid content, without one shadow to mar the happiness of the future, 3 Grace, purified by paftpring, has developed into a true and noble woman. Under the sin and passion that hurried her so rapidly along the dark road, there was all the while a great, strong heart: well; it was God’s way of healing the tune that happened to Dick, Among the papers found in Lasalle’s trunk, at Fairlawn, was a letter of ‘recent date, signed ‘‘ Wil- Has ape : , ; ick sent a man to India to make inquiries. It turned out that Black Billy was really dies and well, He had been wounded in the duel, but not fatally. Lasalle had concealed this fact, the better to work upon Dick’s fears, : . t was a great relief to the young man to know he was not a murdérer. Of Colonel Heatheliff we have only a word to add. speaking of the past, but trying to live happy and | contented in the present. — Madame Gale still occupies the.cottage where we first found her, growing | mer and more human ag the years glide onward, bearing her nearer her erGod’e wolack ptomizés von en for the si that O's Olen ven for the sinner tha yepenteth. Blessed be His name, THE END, ‘ WAVERLEY LIBRARY. 158 A Birrer Misrake. By Agnes Mary Shelton. 4159 Lapy Hexen’s Vow. . By the late Me. E. F. Ellet. new issue every week, For sale by all Newsdealers, price five cents each, or sent, ge 5 pee on receipt of six cents, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, N, Y.