Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 166) (1883 01 16)
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___ $2.50.a year. Cheapest and Best Library! Enter No166. VoL. VI a caress, In the vine-clad_ porch of a pretty cottag? | ornée, overlooking Lake George, sat Neria Gor- don. She was gazing dreamily at the landscape spread before her. It looked like a picture. Sca:ce a ripple stirred the placid bosom of the lake, which lay burning and darkening like a burnished shield in the yellow sunlight, The forests were brilliantly tmted with scarlet and | gold, and a soft, purplish haze rested lovingly upon the encircling hills. |. Every day for six months the young girl had beheld nearly the same s-ene, but it never ‘lost its subtle charm. Every Jeaf and blade by pass | of grass was precious to her soul; for was it not | HUSBAND AND WIFE, | here she had tasted the crowning happiness of Think’st thou that I could bear to part | her l.fe? With thee, and learn to halve my beart? A gentle sigh heaved her bosom. ‘‘I wonder ; F —Byxon. if | shall be so happy anywhere else?’ she mur- aes was one of those perfect October days | mured, in a dreamy tone. 1 the air one breathes seems like a draught At this moment a step stirred the gravel, and OR, HIS LAWFUL WIFE. A Woman's Heart Mistory. BY RETT WINWOOD, AUTHOR OF “WAS SHE A WiFn?” “4 BRIDE AT SIXTEEN.” ‘ WIFE OR WIDOW?” ETC., ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. = I} = il “sarLY FOOL!” MUTTERED THE WATCHER. “MEN ARE TREACHEROUS, AND SO YOU WILL YET DISCOVER.” The Cream of American and Forcign Novels for. Five Cents! ERR IT AE eer eeseeea ee eS Bee of ambrosia, every breath that fans the cheek a | @ young man came slowly along a path leading from the lake. Neria sprung up to meet him. “*T have been thinking what a delightul sum- mer we have spent here, Lawrence,” she said. | **T am so sorry it is over.” The young man threw himself into a seat. He» was a handsome fellow, tall, neavy limited, with one of those brilliant dark faces women find so attractive. ‘Does if pain you to think of going away?’ he asked. *Ob, very much.” ¥: He looked at her eaverly, the troubled frown that bad wrinkled his brow u moment before vanishing quite away. “Tam glad you like the place, Neria,” said he. “It is healthy and retired—all that is charming. There is nothing to hinder us from making it our permanent home, if you feel so disposed.” : | She looked up quickly, the plan was so dif- | ferent from any he had ever madé before,
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_ added: - o«n kin she could not endure even to mention “ a re necesita “Do you think it could be managed, Law- rence?” gin IES pn i Mrs. Gross, our Jandlady, would be delighte have you remain, If you wish, I will settle the matter with her at once.” ‘*But would you like it?” ““T? he echoed, with an embarrassed laugh. ““Oh, yes: It would, bea delightful retreat to which to hie from the cares and bustle of the world. It would please me above all things. | We would see much less of each other than we do now—that is the only drawback.” Something in the wordsand tonestruck 4 sud- | den chill tothe young girl’s heart. ‘““You do not mean to say, Lawrence, that you would go away even for a day, and leave me behind?” she faltered. - , - ‘ Why not?” heanswered, impatiently. ‘‘ You and I cannot expect always to be together as we are now, Neria. It would be delightful; but out of the question. I have my business to look after, and could not afford to let it suffer.” ‘Must we.be separated, dear husband? Isit really necessary?” she asked, her sweet lips quivering, her upturned face full of pathetic pleading. “Tm afraid so, darling. But don’t look so broken-hearted. shall be with you all that is - possible. You may expect to see me every week. But our holiday is over. I have been thinking for some time of telling you so, I have been idle too long already, and must go back to my work.” ** Are we so very poor?” “Poor enough,” be answered, dropping his eyes rather than meet her clear, honest gaze. ‘No matter. That need not separate us. I am young’and strong; I eouid go with you and help about your work, whatever it may be.” ** Impossible!” P “Why? I would like it, and I am quick to learn.” Then, still looking at him steadily, she ‘What is your business, Lawrence? You never told me,” ’ , ; ‘*'You would not understand, darling. I did not “ish to trou! le you with wearisome details. i.-t us talk of something else.” Neria sighed. These evasions perplexed and troubled ber. It almost seemed as though her lhushand had something to conceal. Lawrence bimself broke the brief silence that ensued, saying, in a tone of affected careless: ness: **You and I have been married for half a year, but it is singular how little we know of each other’s history. I do not remember ever having heard you speak of your relatives, or early friends.” | Neria changed color. “TJ had reasons for being silent,” she said, in alow voice, ‘*The lines have not always fallen to me in pleasant places. Tbe names that should have been ‘sweetest to my lips were the most difficult to utter. Forgive me, Lawrence. One of these days you shall hear all there is to tell.” Eee pant Soe |“ Why not now?” eo ee “ Ba patient a little longer,” she pleaded. _ Lawrence gazed at her eg 0 It was very str.nge whab had so turned her against her them. ‘What does it matter, after all?’ ho said to himself, half angrily. ‘‘1f there: has been any scandal or crime, I would rather never be told.” _ Geutly drawing her to him, be added aloud: “Let me tell you why 1 referred to your friends and early life. You wil he lonely with m) away. The thought sugested itself that |, \ ‘tmight be happier surrogude i by those you bod known avd prized in childhood—” yy . *No,” she passionately interrupted. ‘ You are the only person ! love in ajl the wide earth. Dont talk of a og at I contd not bear it. ‘Wherever you go I will follow. Ww ver bur- dens fall tpon your shoulders I will help you bear. .No one could take ame place, or console . me for your absence.’ Oh, my leve, do not break mv heart by leaving me behind when you go away!” Sy a The young man looked both pleased and an- noyed. It was something to have won a love like this, however troublesome it might eveatu- ally prove. bed 3 odie Stet “Foolish child,” he whispered, gently caress- ‘ing ber. “1 did not dream vou would ri mutter so to hearte-But, take courage; To never leave you,” .c. com At th» moment he meantit. Neria’s distress and clinging affection bad touched his callous . heart. ‘| will be true to her, whatever may come of 4 * a pa ee it,” he thought, yielding to the generous impulse | ae It would be to fear any wrong at hands.’ ; "i ' Fa 4 > turned ba a away, going to the open window. Was it fancy?—or did his face really —— A MAN'S SIN. that came over him. Just then Mrs. Gross, who was gathering herbs in the little kitchen garden not.far away, came in sight’ of the young couple sitting on the porch. A frown wrinkled the *woman’s brow. Her own life-had been soured by trouble and disappointment, and it made her envious to witness the happiness of others. * Billing and cooing as usual,” she muttered. “T wonder how much longer it will last?” She stood up, peering curiously through the vines. A prety ink flush had kindled in Neria’s cheek, er head rested confidingly against her husband’s shoulder. “Silly fool?’ muttered the watcher. ‘‘ Men are all base and treacherous at heart, and so you will yet discover.” Mrs. Gross had always felt lurking doubts of Lawrence Gordon’s sincerity. Six months be- fore he had brought Neria to her cottage, a bride. They had idled the whole summer away in this self-imposed seclusion. Many points on the lake weré gay with summer Visitors, but the young couple never received visitors, or left the immediate neighborhood. “Mr. Gordon is a man of the world; it is not natural for him to live so retired,” thought the woman. “Something is radically wrong, you may be sure.” At this moment a boy came up the path with a letter. Lawrence snatched it eagerly, and rising from his seat, advanced a little nearer the clump of bushes behind which Mrs. Gross stood, before breaking the seal. There were two envelopes, the inner sealed and post-marked like the other. Mrs. Gross caught a momentary glim of the name on the envelope that had been inclosed, and almost cried aloud. She felt absolutely certain it was not Lawrence Gordon! What did it mean? While she stood motion- less, Lawrence broke the second seal. A mut- tered imprecation fell from his lips. He read the letter uwice over, then tearing it across, thrust the fragments into his pocket, and strode away. The woman looked after him; her thin lips tightly compressed. It was easy to see that he had been greatly disturbed. “‘T would give my right hand to know what’s in that letter!” she muttered. ; CHAPTER II, ; GONE! ‘ Oh, had he ever loved, he would have thought ’ The worst of tortures bliss, to silent parting. = —CIBBER. Nerta’s slumbers were broken and disturbed that night. An’ indefinable foreboding that could not be skaken off, sleeping or waking, had taken possession ‘of her mind. Once she awakened with the dreary sense of being left alone, forsaken. on. ‘* Lawrence, where are you?” she eried, aloud. The touch of his lips upon ber cheek answered_ her. Clinging to his neck, shé burst into hys- terical tears. : ey ‘I bave had such a wretched dream! I} mone you had pone away and lett me.” **Silly child,” he said, half-impatiently. ‘You must have been worrying yourself over the conversation we held this. noon.” “Yes, I could not help it, Lawrence. I am nervous and hysterical to-night. a colle 6 is is strong upon me that something dread about to-occur.” , : . ; ie to i ‘Nonsense. You need a soothing draught to quict your nerves. Iam going for one.” t He was absent some time. eagerly the mixture that had been prepared. — *Liwrence, how good you are,” she mur- mured, hfting her eyes lovingly to his face. ungrateful look paltid.and haggard in the uncertain light, Neria looked after him anxionsly, but before sha could make up her thind on this point a stranga drowsiness stole over her, benumbing every faculty, and she fell fast asleep. . The Ovtober sunshine was streaming in at the window in a flood of gojd, and a solitary bird, perches don the baleeny without, was singing his matin song when she awoke, “fue litle pore) where Lawrence smoked his he hour was late. Finding herself alone, riamudo a ‘has'y toilet, and hurried below. morning cigar was vacant, and she ran through the silent-hall, calling his name. Mrs. Gross was in-the dining-room giving a few last touches to the breakfast-table. | rence Gordon’s wife. It looks now as though Neria drank | But— _ }relse is to help and counsel ‘no Sige ee ee ' “ Where is Mr. Gordon?” Neria asked, The woman looked up quickly. : “He has not been down this morning, un- ess— a ** Unless what?” cried Neria, alarmed by her hesitation. ‘‘Speak out.” ‘*T found the front door standing open when Icame down-stairs, and Mr. Gordon’s hat and coat were gone from the rack.” ‘He has gone for an early walk,” the young girl said, but flew back to her chamber, not knowing why she went, or what she expected to find. A glance told her that many of his little be- longings were missing from the room. On the dre’sing-case, with a newspaper thrown care- lessly over it, Jay-a small packet addressed to herself. She had quite overlooked it before go- a eria’s heart beat almost to suffocation as she tore the eat ee Ke asunder. A letter fell out, and a roll of bank-notes. Everything swam before the girl’s eyes fora moment, and she sat down, her forehead covered with heavy —— ; ‘“Read the letter,” said a husky voice at her elbow. ‘‘ That will tell you. whether the wretch has gone away for good.” | It was Mrs. Gross who spoke. She had fol- — lowed the girl up-stairs, and divined all at a glance: ~ — mechanically Neria obeyed. It ran thus: “TI have received an imperative stmmons that calls me from your side fora time. After our con- versation of yesterday, it seemed wiser to go with- out any words of adieu. Remain with Mrs. Gross . until you hear from me again. You will be liberally ; provided for. While Ilive youshall never wantfor money, or a friend. LAWRENCE.” ) The letter fell to the floor, Neria sat fora while with her hands clasped over her face, not knowing or caring that Mrs. Gross had picked up the crumpled sheet, and was eagerly devour- ing every word. She felt incredulous, benumbed. Was it sible this cruel Jetter had been written to fer, and by him—the husband she had loved so de- vo'edly and trusted so entirely? No, no! She could not believe it. Lawrence was incapeble of such heartless conduct. It wes be a jest to try the strength of her affec- ion, 7 The harsh, rasping voice of Mrs. Gross broke in upon her reflections: eghir me ‘‘ And so the villain has deserted you, madam? I half, expected he would; but the erisis has come sooner than I looked for it.” Neria lifted her dazed eyes to the woman’s face. She scarcely comprehended a word. “Poor thing! The man has made you his dupe. I’ve always felt suspicious of him. He pretended to be poor and humble enough, but it was plainly to be seen that he was a born gen- tleman, accustomed to the best society, and to baing pampered and flattered. I am amazed ae ous hatePose mnie ae 2. sat motionless, o nd cline tight over her heart. "Slowly the ot rs. Gross’s words was’dawning upon ‘her SOUSER 1 ee SS, a j pig h ae edt.” the hard, re- lentless voice went ee t you might as well make the best of it, Iam going to speak very nly to you. -It is not gout fault, poor thing, . you have been cruelly deceived. You have under my roof for six month: ee Ty ‘as Law- you had no cone aii iaions he would scarecly, have gone away, Jeft.you like this. Bi ly J ovat Wee ih ie ede ghtill cry broke from the'lips of the wretch- _ - “ Hush, ob; hush!” ir ‘““You had better let me speak, miss. Who yu I was about to say that I shall not drive. you from the house, as almost anybody else would do under the cir- cumstances, I cannot help feeling some com- passion for one so wantonly betrayed. For the present you can remain as though nothing bad happened, and we. will. decide together what Ee be pursued in the future.” The forsaken one sprung up wildly, claspin both nands to-her ferctiont aha dad “Leave me,” she cried. ‘For pity’s sake go away! Give me time to think my troubleover. . I feel like a madwoman.” ‘She looked it, with her hollow cheeks: and burning eyes. Mrs. Gross’s heart was vot all adamant; after hesitating a moment she silent-. — ly 1-ft the room. Neria tried to think calmly and connectedly. In vain. Her brain burned, her mind wandered
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Rene Mo RHA ON ages f ; re ? i] —— Seeenceeeeeemeeeneeen ere er —— Lawrence had really gone and left. her. i “ It eannot be,” she mvaned. truly, he was my lawful husband, no matter what Mrs. Gross may say. Something very strange has happened to call him away, but he has not willfully deserted me.” » And yet, there was the evidence of the letter —a letter that saidso much! She recalled, too, tbe sootnir g draught that bad caused her to fall into a deep, unnatural sleep. Had he heen base enough to drug her in order to shp away aud-t ected? “No, no,” sae cried aloud. Rousing herself at last, she slowly and pain- ‘Kitchen where Mrs. Gro-s was going ebout the Mornivg’s work as though nothing unusual had veecurred, at There hes been some mistake,” she panted. tam snffering terribly. Who ksows but Some direful misfortune bas befallen my hus- ud, and he wrote that letter simply to blind and mislead me¢ I am going to Glentown, There may be news of him at the hotel where 1€ some.imes stops. Ob, Mrs, Gross, I am so Weak—hel» me to'get there, and-and—” '_ She sunk into a chair with such @ deathly — that tee woman was thoroughly fright- ed, eunhy) Mrstiome “My poor child, try to bear up,” she cried It’s «wn absurd idea you've taken into your | head, but Pll do what Ican. Vl call Rub, and | © shoil drive you over at onre.” , Rob” was the. hired. man. A few minutes Jater Neria found herself en route for tne vil- lage, seated by bis side. n reaching the ‘hotel, she sent immediately for the landlord. He came smilingly to meet er, the start of surprise he gave being an in- ve lontary tribute t. ber youth and beauty, ‘Tam hereto inquire for my husband,” she S-'d, keeping her voice steady by a powertul 3 effort. ** Perhaps you can tell me something.” _ Pardon me; [ have not the honor of know- ng madam—” _ ‘am Mrs, Lawrence Gordon.” e's pap low, ‘Ah, indeed! Yes, your but “88 here quive early in the morning, ib Where is he big & her breath, i a yu@. He left for Albany some three hours Ths poor soul shrunk ba . ' : ck, as though he had struck her, The words confirmed her worst nt sh Pride came to her rescue, however. ‘ld not answer to let the mau see what she suffere a, ; " ; —I—wished to seo Mr. Gordon again hefore 4 ® “ent,” she faltered, feeling that some excuse or her ic te bb 9 was nece-sary. . ‘ew ng her vail over her tace, she passed Ous, The shudder that ran through her frame escaped the man’s notice. . Little did he dream wha5a broken and bleeding beart bis beautiful: Suest carried from his presence. CHAPTER III, THE AGONY OF SUSPENSE, ‘fam not mad; too well, too we!l I feel _ The different plague of each calamity. haben —SHAKESPEARR, kA y explanation was necessary to irish oe the at of the mission to is , out, the moment the ear- nig > ee the ‘door, and with some “ineness helped the girl into the house, "a seat by the sunniest window. take itso to heart,” saidshe, “ Scores t young girls have been deluded by “f iage, an left. much worse off than Mr Gordon—if that is his narne—has provide liberally for you»... ‘* horror, anguish and: indienati 1) Neria’s lips. ge a do youmean? How dare you doubt ly of my marriage with Lawrence a now?” Neria demanded, just . » ge from what I know, and have seen,” ‘ eoolresponse, ‘‘A man does notleaye ‘ul wife in the free and easy fashion Mr, has tyken to rid himselfof you.” wre bound to each other by every tie, 1) divine,” declared Neria, trembling p ‘acitement Sg Ay pe you will be able to prove it, my ie “is easily done, We were married in New Sage lvansy after an acquaintance of only six ? hs f ks. I was living as foverness in the family ‘aia & planter at the time. My husband brougbt ~ ou ereimmediately. We have remained with WWever since. Oh, there can be no doubt but eA % Litates : Mey Sees aaa a ea . be arr ee Pei 8 Spa ee 4 in a wild chaos. She could not realize that | ‘*He loved me | fully made ber way down-stairs to the tidy | It | Wei nS mete ee GaN . : e Syl ry * oe on hay i PvE Ta . ‘ . " \ 4 a . A MAN'S SIN.» “4 "n it*was a bona-fide marriage. I still have the | that,” she said, ‘* But it will be a fool’s errand. I misisted upon keeping it myself, | ana Lawrence did not care.” . b S .e hastily detached from her neck a slender chain of gold from which depended a small locket, and touched a secret spriug. Why was it that she fell back, the next instant, her tace pale as death could have made it? © + The receptacie was empty! 3 The discovery shocked even Mrs. Gross. | If , Lawrence Gordon had stolen the certificate, the fact proved that he had dealt with this hapless | girl with a studied treachery of whieh she had deemed him incapable. ‘*Never mind the loss of that bit of paper, miss,” said she, with an effort to console. ‘It was of no earthly use, I imagine,” But, Neria gave no heed. She sat with both hands pressed tightly to her temples. ‘“Why did he take it?” she. moaned. ‘* Why covld he not even Jeave me that ?” Mrs. Gross stood looking compassionately at the stricke. creature a moment, then drew nearer as though she had taken a sudden reso- lution. ‘There's something you ought to know, miss; Remonstrance would have been useless, and Mrs. Gross deemed it the better policy to speed the deserted wife on her way. “May good luck attend your mission, miss,” she said, heartily, “Should it tail, however, or should you for any reasen decide to turn back, you are sure of a home and welcome here.” Jt was late in the afternoon when Neria reached the city. Taking a cab at the railway station, she drove at once to the hotel where she hoped to find her husband. Her heart beat high, she trembled with excitement asxhe as- cended the steps. : Some ene was crossing the hall at that very moment. She recognized that firm, manly step, and forgetful of time and place, rashed ferward with a fvint, heart-thrilling scream. ‘Lawrence! Ob, my husband!” shes The startled wretch saw and heard, He, fell it would be no kindness to keep it from you | back a step, a muttered imprecation falling now, and may help to throw some light on Mr4| from his lips. pili J Gis hi: Gordon’s shameful conduct. After you!were ‘You, Neria!. Here!” ¥ oleci hk pH this Late AT A et into ~ —— to eee : 16 Waika gather vegetables for dinner, and found the ection, 4m frantaccte’ of a letter lodged in the grass. J CHAPTER Iv. . iF have read it, and advise you to do the same.” THE FAITHLESS HUSBAND, ..... Neria mechanically took the slip of paper the To doubt. “4423 oO Ue woman offered. It had been torn ‘straight Is worse than to have lost. . —Massrnerr. across, leaving a portion out of the middle of the letter, which was without beginning or end. ‘ This is what was said, written in a woman’s and: © “Your friends are inquiring for + te every day, and even I do not know where to address a line save | through your favorite club. Positively, this state | of affairs shall not continue., Unless you socn pre- sent yourself in proper person, I shail set out by myself to find you and learn the,cause of your mys- terious disappearance. “Tt is high time, too, that you had established matters on a surer footing with Mrs. Faunce’s beau- tiful prot’gée. She loves you, and is secretly griey- ing over your continued absence. Sbe will inherit the whole of the old lady’s immense wealth. It would be folly tosuffer such a prize to slip through | your fingers. We have nearly reached tue end of our tether, and something must be done quickly un- ' less you wish to see absolute ruin stare you in the face. Since it isin the books that you must marry | an heiress orbe reduced to be vary, it might bette | a thousand times be this one than another.” ; Whaat followed had been torn away. Neria crushed the fragment in her band. There could be no doubt but this letter bad been written to her husband, He had received it the night be- fore, and it was this that had taken him away! Mrs. Gross, meanwhile, was attentively scan- ning the young girl’s face. - : “Pm going to give my version of this affair,” she said grimly. ‘‘ You can take it for what it is worth. Mr. Gordon is a man of the world, and such persons hever give a second thougbt to wrecked lives or broken hearts. -He has had denly risen to confront: Lawréucs Gordon) he would not bave been more astonished toan=at the unexpected ah of the womau he had so basely deserted, : aw” For some seconds he stood staring at ber like one transfixed. Wasit really Neria who Jowelt there before him with uplifted hands—Nefia. the loving, unsophisticated child, whow be Ga’ believed wholly subjected to his willyaod eo trusting and confiding she-would neversdrearm of taking a step he had not: cou:iseled and sane- tioned? . He could scarcely believe tise evivenvo of bissenses; . . Old Bi The necessity for action’ recalled almost in- een his wandering wits. Seiziig wee par roughly by the arnt tie drew ‘her intoone of the door.» ‘‘Now tell me the meaning of this!” he said, releasing her. ‘‘ Why have you followed sue?” Again she sunk at bis jeet, lier heirf growing cold, like a lump of:ice in ber: bosom, ex she said, with a voice like one that is smother- him into an exhibition of something like ide- cency. bys more kindly, ‘.Wobat ied you to. come here?” “T could not live without you.” mee Ti “Nonsense... I thought, you, understong. it was impracticable for us always,to be to er. You found the note I left?” "» whidead “Yes,” she answergdy yar quod jifelon bh “That was explanation enough. of my sudsen depaiture, You should haye been. and remained quietly with Mrs. Gross ” « Neria’s. heart. was. sinking lower and, lowe., his holiday, and you've seen the last of bim. You might as well be reconciled to give him up. He has gone back to his aristocratic friends, and will doubtless marry the heiress who has been selected for him.” Mrs. Gross did not intend to be cruel; she only wished to prepare the girl for the inevitable. Great was her surprise aud consternation, there- fore, to see her start up suddenly with a long, shuddering cry, and fall insensible. All ‘that day and night Neria Jay wey a fain that her appearance bad annoyed and fright - ened him. lready she detected an indefina?)io the airy politeness were gone forever, ping Clasping her arms about him, she burst into agonizing sobs... > tal: bee ‘Lawrence, hysband! my heart. is almost broken. How. could. you leave me ig tas strange, cruel fashion?” . , nid dead, She did not moan or weep—only fluttering breath showed that she lived. By the time morning dawned, she had gath- ered a little strength, however. When Mrs. ‘Gross took up her breakfast at a late hour, she found the poor soul moving about the room dressed in traveling attire. “Mercy on me! What now?’ exclaimed the astonished woman. ; x “Tam going tofind my husband,” Neria an- swered ina trembling voice. ‘Do not seek.to dissuade me. I must go. The journey means life or death to me now.” 3 ““Poor child! What can complish?” “T can seé Lawrence, and learn his intevtions from his owndips. Nothing less would satisfy ime.” Her voice broke, almost dying away for | # moment, ‘You are a woman, Mrs. Gross, and can divine what:I suffer, | Suspenseand un- | certainty are driving me mad. I can not bear i wretch, ‘I knew you, would vot, consent toa seperation, however brief. The wayal toox seemed the easiest one out of the difficulty.” . “\p filled.my mind with terrible appreben- sions. I thought—I feared—you might intend casting me off forever.” ). .. : He looked at her curiously, a dark red surg- ing over his face, ( ry ined he Pr ae ‘It was a foolish notion; J realize it now,” she.went on, tremulcusly.. .“S Yoéu,could not do you, expect to ac- at myself for having doubted you. Forgive me, Lawrence! Lhad so, much at stake, and— circumstances were against you. Ob, I have been very, wretehed. It would bave b, en mat!- ness toremain behind. I wished to Lear from your own lips that you love mo as. truly as pe al nip tm cet tt a a a LETS them much longer! For God’s sake let: me go!” The wild snguish of look and tone Mrs, Gross neverforgot, * Fei ; ‘Of course you must go, if you feel like ' ever.” ¥ 5 peoge 3! ‘ : uf ‘ a ; ‘ ~ M Pas ; t z" r — ' 4 \ c - [he fe ‘ 7 ii “d in A 2 ’ ye " ¥ . x ane ' 7 { > > ee, ea ~ ae 34" Wen’ *d va ‘“Don’t speak to me sol Don't, Lawrence pi: y ie. ‘*Why did you dog my steps?’ be repeated, ehange in his manner... The gentle courtesy, — , isha . “I bave a horror, of scenes,” stammerrd {ho anything so heartless and cruel. lam amazed Hap a phantom ‘rom the other world sua- | the small receptioa-rooms, closing and locking ing. ' , Tice haggard face and evident distress shamed _ fetshed, aa Sbe could not disguise from herself cthe,fact —
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ns A MAN'S SIN, The pallor of her upturned face—the pathetic and Lawrence, who seemed unfamiliar with the pleading in her lovely eyes—touched the man’s | way, al hted more than once to make in- eart, He suddenly took her in his arms. | quiries. Just at sunset they drew up before a *“Of course [ love you, little one,” he mur- | tiny cottage of three or four rooms, quite be- mured. ‘‘ How could you doubt it?” | yond the city limits. $ . “Te is not true, then, what Mrs. Gross said, | Lawrence had the key in his pocket. It was Lam uot really your wife?” a furnished house, the rooms large and airy. ‘* Did Mrs. Gross say that?” | Neria saw ata glance that with a cheerful fire “Yes, Lawrence. She is naturally sus- | burning in the grate her new home could be icious. She claimed you had deceived and | made to wear a very cosey and pleasant ap- ‘s orsaken me, and were not what you pretended. | pearance. I might have given no attention to what she ‘‘T have engaged a competent woman to take said, but a fragment torn from a letter that was | charge of the house, and expect her every mo- tound seemed to confirm everything.” ment,” Lawrence explained, drawing forward i The young man’s look of annoyance changed | an easy-chair. ‘‘ You will be very comfortable to one of alarm. poet iene.” ; ““A letter?’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Where is it?} Neria leaned toward him, a chill feeling of What do you mean? What letter?” _| foreboding seizing her heart. a Neria took the crumpled morsel of paper from “Oh, Lawrence! One would think you ex- fier pocket and gave it to him. pected me to remain on for an indefinite period.” 5 “JT kept it beeause I hoped for this 2 ““Nonsense,” he answered. ‘I thought you tunity to give it to you, and ask an explana- | would at least be grateful for the trouble I have - tion,” she said. ; taken to leave Fre pleasantly situated.” Lawrence turned to the open window. After “Solam. But you know full well that no reading the few lines that had caused Neria so | place would be pleasant to me long unless you eat distress, he rolled the torn sheet into a | were there.” all, and threw it into the street. “‘ [shall return almost before you have missed “Tam rised that you permitted such a} me.” trifie to trouble you,” he said, not without some i: show of embarrassment. ‘The letter is from | her cheek. my mother, who has very ambitious views for | ‘You will come back, Lawrence?” she said. me. Of course I am not in sympathy with her | ‘‘ 1 have your promise?” designs. It would not have been kind to refuse | *‘Of course. I hope you are not again to go toher, however, and Lam now on the way.” , ing way to silly misgivings?” eeu The explanation seemed reasonable enough, | * At the earliest possible moment?” she per- only’ Neria wondered he had not volunteered | si it before. How much misery she might have | been spared! “T am giad that. is all,” she said, eagerly. Taking his hand she laid it caressingly against sisted. ‘Yes; I shall count the hours of our separa- | tion quite as impatiently as you do.” Neria tried to feel satisfied with this assur- { } i ; be ‘““We can go together. I must meet your | ance, but somehow the tone sounded hollow, the . eet some time—it might as well be now as | words insincere. 4 ome | Shortly afterward the woman who had been Fos But Lawrence frowned and drew back. | en as housekeeper arrived. She was tall, es “You do not understand, dear. My mother | lank, and rather hard-looking, and did not im- iF, is a — woman. Some preparation is | press Neria at all favorably. S ; 'y before I can present you as my wife. *T leave my wife in your care Mrs. Drury,” | ' Her heart is set upon seeing me wedded to an- | Lawrence said to her, ‘‘and shall hold you re- ey A disappointment might prove a seri- | sponsible for the trust, See that she wants for ieee ous blow if it fell too suddenly. No, I must go | ba i OM ie ‘ on in advance, and prepare the way for your Leaving a well-filled purse on the table, and a . ra ” p tenderly embracing Neria, who felt sick and in “You will not be long?” faint at the co: of the coming separation, i ‘Only a few days,” he whispered a few last words of eucourage- poet i Neria sighed heavily. The eae Pea were | ment, and left the house. ¥ Pea not wholly lifted from her heart by what she Neria saw him go, and as the Jast rumble of ‘aid had hea the carriage whe-ls died away, sunk half-faint- pan ‘What is to become of me while you are | ing intoa chair, he away?” she inquired, after a pause. ee. » Bergre replying he walked several times up | CHAPTER V. Ret _ and down the 790m, as though buried in per- | HOPING AGAINST HOPE. plexed thought, ‘It is scarcely worth while to return to your | gue dient ns aver h dosti." fia old ters,” he said at length. ‘‘ Mrs. Gross, iets sot prove a pleasant companion after; Nearty two weeks passed, but no line or what has occurred, t had better find a nice, | message from the recreant husband. Neria quiet place near by, where you canremain.” | counted the lagging hours, and from morning “Tf should not mind remaining here at the | till night sat motionless at one of the windows hotel, if it is only for a day or two.” overlooking the street, watching, waiting, “e “The place 3 too public,” he answered, | straining her eyes in the distance that she might ‘ vy. | catch the earliest possible glimpse of his be- “I might keep my room, for that matter. [| loved figure. should not feel Tike going out with youaway.” | Her mind was a prey to dismal forebodings. “You would like better to live more re-, Why this long absence and persistent silence‘ tired.” | Again was she forced to the terrible conclusion He quitted the room, presently, to see what | pers yp hea xy “9 es crops eee . arrangements could be made. Neria was quite ‘I see now why he brought me to this out- ina to obaaeve that pyiodise the door, and | of-the-way place,” she thought, at last giv- ing way to despair. ‘‘ He intended it for my permanent home. I have nothing more to hope or expect. All his specious promises meant nothing.” ogy. If Mrs. Drury knew aught of the niissing took away the key. Two hours wore on; she had grown very anxious and uneasy when at last he returned. ‘“‘T have found just the place,” he said, gayly, as hé entered; "a pretty little cottage in the suburbs that you can have ail to yourself.” | man, she kept such knowledge to herself. ‘But was it worth while to hire it for so' Neria found ample time to reflect upon her short a time?” Neria objected. | situation, during these days of enforced solitude. R course. I would do anything in the | She could not fail to realize that a bitter wrong world to insure c, happiness, my love.” had been done. Lawrence had deceived her in As he bent to kiss her, the poor, deluded crea- respect to his social position, and why had he ture clung to him with passionate force. sacreay taken away her marriage certificate “T believe you do love me, Lawrence,”'she unless he meditated other crimes as well? murmured. But her heart still pleaded for him. There In a few moments they were ready to set out. | might bea thousand excuses for his conduct. Lawrence seemed po ig ae ee, and | She rae be a little longer before condemn- i her curiously, before leaving the | ing him utterly. ners Py vitbia forced laugh: % ne wet, windy night early in November she “What a woebegone expression! It would | left her usual position at the window just as never do for strangers to see you like that. | evening closed in, and genta be on the \WWhere’s your vail?” | couch, She felt feverish and sick. There was She produced it from her pocket, and he tied no is ood any hope of seeing Lawrence that ee it securely over her face. : _ | Bight, she thought. : a ‘« That’s better,” he said, with an air of satis- | he'was mistaken. A discreet rap sounded oe. faction, and Jed her down to the carriage that | on the door, presently, and Mrs. Drury entered. Otol svaited in the street. ' ““T have pleasant news,’ the woman said. iy a . Ibwas a long distance to their destination, ‘Mr, Gordon has arrived, te tog! oy, : « wh , a <n is a a en ee esa at gt AT A EC ee Neria sprung up, all her lassitude gone in a moment. ‘* Where is he?” she panted. iy In the sitting-room— waiting to receive you. Her limbs trembled as she made her way to the door. Her husband stood just within the room. : “‘So you have come at last?” she said, with- out gona to him. “Yes, Neria. my promise, and intended to remain away?” he, asked, with a forced laugh. ‘I was ata loss what to conclude.” “Well, since I have taken the trouble to come in this storm, you might at least give me a pleasant welcome.” is arms were held out in the old caressing way, and Neria found it impossible to keep up the réle she had begun. Kat, after all, was: the use of betraying wounded pride or resent- ment? ‘‘ Lawrence, why did you not come before?’ she asked, resting her head upon his breast. ‘*T found my mother quite ill, Iam her only child. It was impossible to leave her sooner,” ‘“*Ts that what kept you? Why,I have been — hard and bitter thoughts of you all the while!’ He kissed away the penitent tears that filled. her “oc enough to é enter into: any explanation, There will be time enough for that when she recovers,” Neria could not keep back the tears of disa})- pointment that rose to her eyes. ‘** How long will you be able to remain, now - that you are here?” she ek asked, “This is only a flying visit. I must return to. myo - oa ll ‘ : So soon wrénce, think of the long, long: days I have spent here alone.” Ste y ‘It cannot be helped, dear. My mother’s sus— picions would certainly be awakened were I to absent myself for a longer period.” “At least take me with you when you go,” sheimplored. ‘I could be ready in a wery tew- moments. I promise not to be a burden to you. inany way. Let me go.” “Tinpossible!” _ “ Your mother need not be told until the way is open for an yt mee she continued to urge. ‘‘1 could take lodgings somewhere in the neighborhood, and live as retired as I do here.” ‘* What would be the use?’ **Do you not understand? I could see you every day of my life. That would make all the difference in the world.” The young man’s heart was touched in spite of himself. ‘* Poor child! How she loves me,” he thought. ‘““What a cursed pity that circumstances com- pel me to play the part of a knave.” Aloud he said: ‘The change you urge would scarcely benefit: matters. * lam closely confined to my mother’s bedside, and might not succeed in seeing you more frequently than at present. It would. be folly to break up your present home and seek anotber, under the circumstances.” Neria felt chilled and hurt. She could not help thinking how eager she would have been, ane oe positions reversed, to make the ex- ment, “Tell me the truth, Lawrence,” she cried, clinging to him with a loud burst of sobs. ‘It ; would be no kindness to kesp it from me after all I have suffered. My heart misgives me, Is the love you once professed for me growing cold cert I wish to know. Do you love me no onger ‘“What a foolish question!” he exclaimed,. trying to smile. “Tam in earnest. Do not mock me, please. Once we were so happy together, Ah, those bright, blissful days! fancied they would last forever. But they are gone with the beau- tiful summer that gave them birth. You a pear so strange, so cold, so unlike yourself. Lawrence. First you left me secretly, w thout a word of farewell, or any clew to your des- tination. For weary days together I date been without any tidings of hae Even when you do reappear, it is only for a few fleeting Did you think I had brokeny — | | BAO,
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a _ them off, * Can I» A moment he hesitated; but, bad as he was, he had not the courage to declare the truth. Drawing her to bis heart, and covering her | Tce with kisses, he answered with an air of &p- | parent incerity: i ‘How can you say such dreadful things, Neriat Love yout. Of course I do, you not dearer to me than my own life! Perhaps I have not always manifested that affection suf- | ficiently, but it. is a living, burning flame in my | heart. i could not live without you. Try to | keep up your iy a little longer, darling, | ‘and this trial will over, Only be patient _ and forbearing. If you understood all, you | would know it was impossible for me to have | acted differently from what I did.” _ , She believed him. Itis so easy for one who | loves devotedly to be deceived. moments wore on, and the time came Very quickly for Lawrence to go. Neria tried | to calm, and keep back her sobs, for she knew how her husband disliked a scene. . E shall count the bours until you come | again,” she said at parting. - ‘Rest assured I shall not remain away a day longer than is ne .” he replied. After he had gone, all the old doubts and | forebodings returned. Neria tried to shake | ut in vain. In spite of determined | ¢fforts to keep up her spirits, she became more | unhappy than ever. “Heaven alone knows when I shall see him | ogain,” she said to herself. “Why did I not | ask for my marriage certificate! It would bea | great comfort to have it in m sion?” } She had forgotten to speak of it while her | usband was present, however, and could now | ony. wait patienvly until he came again, _ this did not happen until another week had | gone by. It was evening, as before, when he | made his. appearance. Neria noticed the fact | with a pang of dismay. Did he fear to be seen | approaching the cottage by day? This time he harried and ill at | time he appeared more =aieee ah The first greetings had | wife spoke of the certificate, a die. ray 7 take it away?” she said. ‘It ® to prove to th your true and sa wil wife.” 3 nied 5 hae: = You shall have it again,” he answered, th rning aside his face to hide his confusion. Debewey eavccteet egies te ; but neglee “ «, Where is it now? aig mong m x in New we my longings at my mother’s house i When can I expect to receive it?” At my next visit. But why are you so anxious for that bit of paper, Neria?” s a“ flush came into her pale cheeks at the ques- “It is anything but a ‘bit of paper’ to me,” | she answered, “ i “| ness and g vain: ga life, honor, happi tha Of course you must have it if you feel like | t,” he said, rather irritably. ‘‘ But its pos- | ’ — on can neither make or undo anything, . ‘eon aes in vain to hear him say all had = peg ve Fes way r at her feet and i er eae upon their marriage. He did not once allude to Mrs. Gordon except to say, in answer to a direct inquiry, that she was im- —s —w = on the road to recovery. was w arose fo depart, “ ell advanced he ood-by,” he said, abrupt] i hand in te coer “T must be on tay waye” im All Neria’s fortitude gave way at the thought of parting with him again like this. Clingin to him with bitter sobs and tears, she cried: . ow can I let you go? Lawrence, how He freed himself roughly from her embrace, ra t us have no foolishness, Neria. You mee i Well asI do tbat this must be. Why 4 : ®@ common-sense view Of the situation, a Sh eep your self-control?” Bev: felt hurt and wounded as 1 ve" before, ing down on a chair she saw Laid depart _ without another word. ee CHAPTER VI. lL have no skill in ed ac Rater 10 SKill IN woman’s changeful moods, Tears without grief, and smiles without a joy Neo —MATURIN. Dvnine the two or three weeks of her sojourn by he . 4 ‘ ‘ ~‘ j » looked s sight of me?’ once passed be- ond the narrow confines of the grounds. Mrs, rury executed the few commissinns she had outside, and there was nothing to call her into the busy thoroughfares of the city. One morning, several days subsequent to Lawrence’s last visit, feeling unusually restless and nervous, she dressed herself in walking costume, and nb song to go out. Mrs. Drury saw her cross the hall, and lookinz rather flur- ried, followed her to the door, even venturing to lay a detaining hand upon her arm. ‘*{—I hope madam has no intention of going far?’ stammered the woman. ‘*I don’t know,” Neria replied. ‘I have been so closely confined to the house of late, the fresh air may do me good.” “You have no érrandsto run? Because [ am more than willing to go in your stead.” ‘‘No. It is the exercise I am after.” ‘Ts that all? Why, then, would it not an- swer to walk up and down the lawn, as usual?” Struck by the woman’s persistence, Neria ily in her face an instant, ‘Is there any reason why I may not go outt# Has Mr: Gordon instructed you never to lose Not that,” came the hesitating reply. ‘“‘But—” ‘‘What did hesay?? ‘He would prefer that you did not. go out unattended while he is away.” Neria’s heart throbbed a little faster, What was the significance of instructions like these coming from her husband? ‘“‘There is no danger,” she said, lightly, ga- thering up her shawl. ‘I shall not be long away. ; Mrs. Drury looked as though she would have barred the passage out had she dared, “I could do no less than make Mr. Gordon’s wishes known,” she said, falling back a step. Neria on, feeling curious and uncer- tain. Why should she not go out freely, at that hour of the morning, if so d d? ere was not the least impropriety in doing so. Deeply absorbed in these self-communings, she took no note of time, but awakened sud- denly out of a reverie to find herself in one of the crowded squares, a long distance from home, in the midst of the changeful stream of bu- interchanged before the young | meaty flowing by. resently her attention was drawn to a hand- some private carriage standing before one of the fashionable shops. As she gazed a lady, closely vailed, but ——? dressed, descended tothe walk. Neria felt her heart thrill strangely. for there was something strikingly familiar in the lady’s air and bearing. The next instant a gentleman advanced, took the lady’s arm, and lifting her into the carriage with an unmistakable air of proprietorship, seated himself beside her. Neria stood like a statue. Her heart gave one t, tumultuous throb, as though about to fore from its confines, then lay still and pulse- less in her breast. : j That man was her recreant husband, Law- rence Gordon! The carriage rolle& away before she could either speak or stir. Its occupants had not ob- served her, and knew nothing of the wild, woe- ful gaze that followed them as long as they re- mained in sight. Something in the little scene told its own story. Neria did not scream or faint, but put- ting both bands to her forehead in a weary ges- ture, leaned trembling against the iron railing near which she bad paused. . A brief interval elapsed, then she heard a kind voice say close beside her: ‘‘ Hallo, miss! You must be ill. Let me lead you out of this crowd.” ; She shook ber head. ‘I shall be better soon.” ‘‘ Don’t be too sure of that. Wait a moment. I will call a carriage, and you can go wherever you oe ; A little later she found herself resting on the soft cushions. She had just strength enough left to tell the driver where to go, then fell back in a state of semi-unconsciousness. It gave Mrs. Drury quite a start to see her young mistress brought home in this condition. ‘Something dreadful has a pe she said to herself. ‘*Mr. Gordon will be very angry when he knows of this.” The woman got her into the house, drew an easy-chair = to the grate, brought cushions and hassocks and warm, stimulating drinks, doing all that was possible to revive the heart-broken wife. Nevertheless she lay like one dead, with her eyes shut, and scarce a flutter stirring her cold bosom. “Mxys. Drury dared not question her; she could only stupidly wonder what had occurred, ~ a AE IES. =F atl Le <t aaten Ne eee AEE eee PS BAO AEE TE Te TRIM EN SA IR 1. eS era th a2 As night fell, Neria revived a little. <A faint eolor came into her cheeks, she grew restless and feverish, and constantly watched the door. ‘‘ He will come to-night,” she said to herself, “‘T shall see him again.” . 4 She had felt from the first a conviction that all was over. The air with which Lawrence had hung over his companion was too gallant: and lover-like to have no particular iowa “ He could not remain with me,” Neria thought, bitterly. ‘‘ But he has time enough to devote to this other woman. My God! what does it mean? He loves her—I read it in his face, This, this is the secret of his coldness and indif- ference.” { About nine o’clock there came a ee sypere and the bell rung. Neria waited gui calmly for to let her husband in. She was astonished at her own composure. She did not even look upas he came swiftly to hér side. ‘Is it you?” she said, declining by a gesture his outstretched hand. ‘‘ Sit down; I was ex- pecting you.” Lawrencé stared. Was this really his loving little Neria who had received him so-eoldly! “She is Vexed with me for remaining away so long,” he thought. ‘‘F am not very strong,” Neria said, after a pause, ‘The least excitement upsets me, Will you be good enough to tell me at onee your ob- ject in coming here to-night?” ‘““To see you, of course, my dear.” Looking at her closely now, he noticed her changed ap- pearance for the firsttime. ‘‘In Heaven’sname what is the matter, Neria? Have you been’ se~ viously ill?” . She made animpatient gesture. © § We will speak of ‘It is of no consequence. other things, if you please. J am afraid wo — have not thoroughly understood each other in the past. It is time that we did.” ‘“Whatdo you mean?” he demanded. ‘ You said when I entered that you had been expect- ing me. How is that ible, since I sent no word of my coming? our language is utter]; incomprehensible.’ Neria laid one hand on her throat as though she felt a suffocating sensation. . ‘* Permit me to explain. This is not the first time to-day I have seen you.” ‘‘Not the first time?” . ‘ oft y.iat ‘“‘No. Earlier in the day you were driving with a lady—an intimate friend, I conclude.” She had expected to see him hen ps je with confusion, but was scarcely prepared for the leery effect of her words. Lawrence fell back, id as death, and trembling visibly. For a brief space hehad not even the strength to ‘“‘{t has become mecessary to speak v plainly,” she went on, her heart beating a little quicker.’ “I have never complained, and will not do so now. You know as well as I do how much I have borne in silence. But the time has come to assert myself. I am tired of all this secrecy. It must come to an end, Lawrence— for your sake as well as mine. T am resolved to run all risks, and from this time forward eee my true position in the world as your wife! ‘‘ What will you do?” he cried, springing to hig feet with an oath. “I fancied my meaning was perfectly clear. To please age my husband, I have kept aloof from society all the months of our m life. Dangers have been incurred, the mere thought of which makes me shudder. But all this must haveanend. Your social position is far above what you led me to believe when I became your wife. Doubtless you had some good reason for deceiving me. We will not speak of that, Now that the first glamour of love has worm away, pew may even feel some regrets for having | inked your destiny with that of a penniless © governess, It is too late to give way to any such feeling, Lawrence; I am yours, and you . are mine, forever! Forever!” Her voice softened as she went on, all harsh- ness and coldness melted away. She leaned to- ward him, stretching out her hands in eager supplication. “Only love me! Ihave no life savein you, ~ I should die if you were to turn utterly against me. Don't doit, Lawrence! Bear with me a lit- tle. I will be to you the best, truest wife-man ever had. Only return a little of the affection Lam luvishing sofreely.” | She fell on the floor at his feet, and wound her arms tightly.about his knees. “ How stramely'you look at me, Lawrence! Don’t, don’t! It curdles the blood in my veins. What have I ever done to forfeit your affection? Isitte my parentage you object? My family isas good as yourown. There is nothing for \
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which “E need blush. I can meet yous proud mother without shrinking. Come, let us go to ‘ber atbonce. LIrealize the terrible danger into which you are: drifting. You must acknowl- edge me before all the world—nothing else will eave you. ys 9 » She» pansed, weak and exhausted with the - y¥iolence ofthervemotions, Lawrence tore him- self roughly from her clinging arms. “Haveryou concluded?” he said, in a hissing whis . re. *“Phen I have a word to add. It was my in- tention to break the truth to you gradually. You have only yourself to blame for precipitat- img its:disclosure: It was a false move to think to take the leadership into your own hands. poe one save yourself will be injured by your ‘olly. The words fell on her heart likea blow. His very looks frightened and appalled her. ‘What do you mean?” .'she panted, “T will tell you. It will bea relief to throw off the last vestige of disguise: Know then that the time for acknowledging you to the world as my wife will never come! You have no such claim upon me. The ceremony by a which I won you was utterly void and illegal. I did not know it at the time, but learned the fact afterward. I amas free from all ties, so far as you are concerned, as I was the day we first met.” — Neria made no response. She sat for a moment as though slowly turning to oy Even her lips seemed to be frozen to- gether. Misled by her silence, Lawrence resumed in a es kinder tone of voice: ‘ ‘tT am glad you are not disposed to take your situation to heart. That would be useless, Of course I mean to provide handsomely for you. I am already negotiating for the purchase of this cottage, and shall settle it upon you with a sufficient Income. But you and I must part—” Tne sentence was never finished, for with a wild, agonizing cry she fell at his feet, insen- sible. ; Poor soul! Her:worst fears had never point- ed to anything so horrible as the truth. Ever the insinuations of Mrs. Gross; and the heartless manner in which Lawrence had deserted her, had only aroused vague and momentary feel- ings of distrust, Seeing him that morning in \the- presence of her unknown rival, she had feared that his allegiance might wander, his af- fections become estranged. / That wasall. The validity of her own claims she did: not question, The blow he had dealt well-nigh killed her. Lawrence himself. felt frightened as he bent above the rigid body of his victim. : ** Poor child! Lam’ really sorry for her,” he ba ace ‘ But he detested anything like a scene. Call- ing hurriedly to Mrs. Drury, he helped place the unconscious girl on the sofa. “Do what you can for your mistress,” he said, pushing a few crumpled bank-notes into the woman's hand. ‘Callin medical aid if ne- ; cessary, though itis probably a_ mere fainting- ee fit, Ican be of nouse here, and might as well go at once.” ; i : “oe And without even glancing again at the ie ; less young creature whose life he had ruthless M ruined and blighted, the heartless wretch left the house. Ws . { ; C _ CHAPTER VIL. DOUBLY DECEIVED. _ When sorrows.come, they come not single spies, Butdin battalions. —SHAKESPEARE, Some blows fall with such crushing force it is difficult to believe in their reality. Thus it was : in Neria’s case. During the long watches of that terrible night, after consciousness re- \ turned, she continually asked sherself if it was not alla hideous dream. Was it really she wuo bad been so woefully deceived? Had Lawrence realiy come and gone, and a asp: the cruel ‘words to which she had listened? At last, long after morning dawned, her mind . began to clear, and she was able to think con- ; nectedly. The uncertainty and suspense were over at last. All doubt had been removed, The mask had fallen from the face of the man she loved, and she saw him revealed in all his hideousness, He had not told her what circumstances ren- dered their marriage null and illegal.. He might have failed to comply with some neces- sary conditions, and invalidated it in that way; er the ceremony itself might haye been a mock- ow \ é She could not. A MAN'S SIN. | ery. What did it matter? The result was ‘the same in either case, and she a lost. woman, ‘* Lawrence’s stories about-his mother’s illness were base fabrications—idle excuses to put me off,” she thought. _*‘ How weak I was to be de- eeived by such hypocrisy! All these weeks he has been paving the way for a final separation —studying how to get rid of me with the least trouble. Oh, my God! my God!” She could not weep, the solace of tears was denied her. But her heart bled. ‘*T see how itis,” she wenton. ‘‘Thelady with whom he was driving » eraser has supplanted me in his affections. Heis anxious to make her his wife. He hung over her like anardentlover. Perhaps—perhaps—” shuddering, and clasping her handsas a sudden thought struck terror to her soul—‘‘ they are married already!” The bare idea sufficed to arouse all her slum- bering energies. During Mrs, Drury’s tem- porary absence from the room, she arose and dressed with feverish haste. ‘*The lady must be good and kind, I will go to her, and tell her my simple. stery,” she said, with sudden resolution: ‘‘She will not refuse to listen. Treacherously as Lawrence bas. dealt with me I love him yet. I am his wife in the sight of Heaven, and no other wo- man can. hold that relation to him while I live, i will tell my rival so. I will ask her to give up him [love. She will do it—she cannot. turn a deaf ear to my prayers. Even Lawrence must pity me. He will return to his old allegiance, and I may be happy yet.” Filled with this hopeful thought—a mad one, ‘| alas!—she tied on ber bonnet with trembling fingers and went out. ‘he streets were filled with the usual bustling crowd, but Neria hurried. on without giancing to the right. or left. Ste had gone some dis- tance when a heavy hand fell suddenly upon her arm. Mrs. Drury stood close beside her, crim- son and out of breath. ply ; ‘‘Mercy!” panted the woman. ‘‘ How fast ou walk, could scarcely overtake you. here are you going?” Neria tried to draw away, but made no re- sponse. ‘““Come back,” pleaded the woman. ‘‘ Do come, miss, lam afraid. You are not fit to be on the streets like this. You—you will destroy yourself! For God’ssake return with me, and think better of your mad design!” Mrs. Drury’s terror was not assumed. She was a shrewd woman, and though not entirely in her employer’s confidence, for some time she had had an inkling of. the true state of affairs. Every day in the week the crime of self-murder is committed for less troubles than that which had overtaken poor Neria. ‘*Come back. Do come!” she entreated. The BnpSppy one turned on her with an in- dignant loo dr eae ihre . _. “Let me alone,” she said. ‘‘ By what right do you detain me thus? Ihave no thought of destroying myself—not the least.” ‘‘Are you sure, miss? Oh, it is dreadful for you to be wandering about by yourself after being so ill.” ’ “T havea visitto make. Let go my arm, if you please. Weare wasting precious time.” Mrs. Drury reluctantly released her hold, not more than half convinced, and Neria daried away. ; She had no very clear idea how to find the lady of whom she wasinsearch. She did not even know whether she was a resident of the city or only a transient visitor. She was igno- rant of her name, and not having seen her face, might pass her on the street a dozen times with- out suspecting her identity. It seemed like a hopeless quest. “‘What am I to do?” she asked herself, a feeling of utter despair coming over her. Lawrence was probably stillin thecity. The only feasible bier that suggested itself was to find. him, and, painful as the interview might be, learn through his instrumentality the where- abouts of the person in question. Hailing a cab, she drove at once to the hotel where she had found Lawrence on first rege to the city, and called for the hotel register. It was laid before her, atid she ran her eyes hastily over the list of arrivals for the previous day. Lawrence Gordon’s name was not recorded among the rest. ‘“‘He is stopping at some other hotel,” she thought, ‘‘I will go the rounds.” é She did so, everywhere meeting with the same result. She even made inquiries, but no one could give her any informacion of such a a person. At length, wearied out with the fruitlessness of ber efforts, she’ retraced her steps to the first place visited. t 4 phx + lot! _ I wish to communicate with Mr. Lawrence. Gordon, and have lost his address,” she said to the clerk, noticing his surprised look at her re- appearance, ‘Be good enough to inform me | when he was last here.” ; ‘‘Ido not know any one by that name, ma- dam,” was the answer. ** You do—you must!” came the eager excla- mation. “Think again. Mr. Gordon always ——— here during his infrequent visits to the city. ‘’he man gravely shook his head. ‘*Then it must have been before my time, madam, and I have been here two years.” Neria drew a startled breath. The insinu- ation Mrs. Gross had made long before, that Gordon. might be a fictitious name, instantly Be. pri itself to her mind. . . ‘Let me see the register again,” she cried, her heart beating and her brain reeling. She knew the date of Lawrence’s first secret: flight, and hastily turned. back to it, The page was well she looked did not anywhere appear. ; “Thank you,” she said, in a husky voice, pushing back the book. ‘I will not trouble you further.” The conviction was forcing its way home to- her unwilling mind that Lawrence had deceived her in respect to hisnmame as in all things else. She had not even a clew by which to trace m, 7 “ Nearer dead than alive she made her way back to the little cottage that was now her only home, Mrs Drury stood in the door, anxiously. watching for her reappearance, ‘‘How long you were,” said the woman, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘‘I had given up alli expectation of seeing you again. Poor child ou look like death. Come in and lie down, i now you are in trouble, but you will feel bet- ter by and by. One can learn to bear almcst anything.” viper eria made no response: Her temples were throbbing frightfully, aud once having gained her room she feli upon the bed, and buried her forehead in the pillow. , What remained to be done?. It seemed more than probable that Lawrence had left the city, and perhaps taken away with him the woman be loved. There was no longer any present possibility of appealing to the sympathy of her . unknown rival. ‘ ‘‘Heaven help me,” moaned the poor crea- ture, ‘‘or I shall go mad.” , What was to become of her in this distressing strait? In point of factshe was both nameless: and homeless. Nameless, for she had noright to the title she had once worn with such tender. ride—homeless, because she would sooner have ged or starved than remain indebted for the fcod she ate and the roof that shéltered her to» him who had basely deserted her. te ‘I must leave here at. once—make my oww way in the world,” she thought. ‘‘ But where, . where shall I go? Where hide my shame anu misery? And who will take me in?” Bhd The thought of her early friends—those frony whom she had been so long estranged—was first; to suggest itself. It would bring greater com- fort than anything else to seek a reconciliation, and be able to throw herself upon their com- passion. But pride rebelled. oN ‘* Never, no, never!” she cried. ‘That hap- piness is denied me. I am under a ban. The trouble that has overtaken me shuts me out for- ever from the society of all I have ever known. I cannot go back to the dear ones who once pri me, with such a sad, shameful, terrible story. ; Gradually, as she reflected, a longing to hide herself somewhere in the great city of New York, took possession of her mind. It might have been because that was Lawrence’s home, and she could still be near him, barren comfort though this would be, or simply because in a vast metropolis she could hope to lose her identity more effectually than elsewhere. She did not stop to analyze the feeling, but simply gave way to it. “IT will go now, this very night,” she re- solved. Reason told her it would not be well to ac- vaint Mrs. Drury with this determination. he waited until nearly midnight, when the house was still and the good woman wrapped in repose, Gathering up a few little trinkets, and ee some money in her purse, she went orth to the new, untried life before her. Little did she dream how full it was destined to be of adventure and strange complications, such as sometimes, but not ofeca. fall to one’s ‘ A filled with names, but that for which —
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a A A MAN'S SIN. : 7 CHAPTER VIII. A NEW HOME AND A NEW NAME. Oh, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full, Home she had none. —Hoop. In the gray light of early dawn Neria reached ew York. The dreary night journey had seemed like a dream. She was only vaguely conscious of be- ing whirled along hour after hour, at a tremen- ous rate of speed. Her temples were throb- ing, her lips parched, and she fe t an almost in- tolerable pain in her side. Even her hands were = and burning hot. ’ y _it was with a terrible sense of isolation that she stole forth from the railway terminus into © unfamiliar streets of the great city. For her there were no pleasant smiles of welcome, or tender words of gr2eting. Homeless, friendless, well-nigh penniless, she was like a waif stranded on 4 strange shore. he wandered on, aimlessly and recklessly, er brain in a wild whirl’ People turned to k at her as she passed, and once a_pleasant- faced lady inquired if she were il]. Neria did not even hear thé question, She felt dead and numbed mentally, only alive to Sica pain. At iength she reached the Park. Itwas now past ten o'clock. Utterly worn out, she could scarcely drag one limb after the other, She threw herself, half-fainting, into one of the rus- tic chairs. What followed she could never clearly recall. ® seémed to wake up out of a lethargy to find a tall, handsome, noble-looking man standing side her, tightly grasping ber arms. - “What is the matter?” she heard the gentle man say. ‘Try to rouse yourself sufficiently ‘to tell me.” She lifted her dazed eyes to his face, but made RO response. “*T wish to know who you are “that I may take you to your friends,” he persisted. The last word riveted Neria’s attention for a ie ends i atothopr she repeated. Friends? Who ie That is what I wish to discover. Pray tell No answer. She closed ; ower. her eyes, and sunk Maa rs intoa state of sénil-aticonsclousness, ian oor thing, a theman, ‘She is goin ome very ill. hat a pretty face, only so full ot Trow! It is a pity she can tell me nothing pital? friends. I dislike to send her to a hos- He reflected a moment, end finally walked i ? a few steps down the path to where’ a carriage stood waiting in the drive. cy Follow me, James,” he said to the footman. 3 have found a-young lady who is ill and de- ‘rious. I will take ber home with me uutil we ean hear ba of ber friends.”. Neria was dimly conscious of being borne to oa Kong by friendly hands; then all was a uk, , ae Many days and weeks had gone by before she awakened again to full consciousness of her own ing in a tone of existence, - She found herself lying on a daintily-draped Heian a pleasant chamber, A small table, sei vials and medicine glasses, stood ® was near the window, the cur- ety sg ones apart. With 3 pon . ] pi! Miho oy stretching below. eria could forehead Phe Ante h her hand wildly to her : lls wilh a white wilehetle "ne yo mabe She Tha : € a shroud! gone to sleep, as it were, with all the vlori autumn about her, and no Magee Witter, or nearly ie wit seemed to be mid- ihe door opene eria hear pronching the bed. ” Oh, Gilberbiero tees aP- exclaimed, in a delighted whisper, « there has been a change! I do believe the poor girl has barr eae right ees at oa ey us came the warnin “ not ee the child.” Poin mad anit erla turned her gaze full upon the speakers. ihe nd the same handsome contieiinh whose rie a: remembered in the Park, and a lady phi years older than himself, but closely re- 4 “Whe him, who was evidently his sister, * With: am I?” she asked, in a weak voice, th lad those who will take good care of you,” © (Ady answered, coming nearer, and speak- repressed excitement. ‘‘ Do r borrow any trouble.” me here?” Ke found you in the Park, We did not know where to - and have cared for you our- hot be alarmed, o : ‘Who brought .' My brother, Sick and delirious, Sud your friends sited ea a i EE | Tears stood in Neria’s eyes. She put up ber haud to brush them away, and then noticed for the first time how thin, white and wasted it as. ‘*T must have been ill a long while,” she said. “Yes, many weeks,” was the answer. ‘‘ But you are not to talk about it now, or excite your- self. You are still very weak.” ‘What is the name of this place?” “Cragnest. It belongs to my brother, Gil- bert Brandon. I am Mrs. Charlton. That is all you need know for the present. We will talk more about it when you are stronger.” Neria took unquestioningly the composing draught that was now placed at her lips. Some- how she felt a deep sense of peace and security, “he though she were homeless and friendless no onger, r. Brandon had not joined at all in the brief conversation, but Neria read the deepest inter- est and sympathy in bis earnest gaze. The next day she felt better and stronger. Awaking from a refreshing sleep to find Mrs. Charlton sitting alone beside the couch, she said eagerly: : **‘ Has any one been here to ask after mé?” **No,” the lady answered. ‘“ We advertised in the papers, but there was no nse. Your friends have utterly lost sight of you.” Neria remained silent for some time, with her face turned to the wall. What had occurred during the long weeks while she had lain un- conscious? Was Lawrence lost to her forever? Had he well-nigh forgotten her already, and married her unknown rival? Her brain whirled so wildly at the thought she could scarcely refrain from crying out- right. Ob, why had not God been merciful and permitted her to die at the very outset of her Ulness# Mrs. Chariton’s voice, full of affe tion and sympathy, aroused her from these bitter re- flections. “‘Rerhaps there is some person for whom you would like to send, my dear?: If so, you have only to give me the name and address, and I will communicate with them at once.” ; Neria started, and felt the heavy, drops gather on her forehead. ‘“No, no,” she said. ‘‘ You are very kind— ou bave only been too good tome. But there is no one I wish to see—not one |” : ““Have you no mother—no sisters?” Mrs. Chariton asked, looking at her in a bewildered way. - * They think me dead, vo dovbt, and have forgotten me. I am dead—to them.” “How strengely you talk. Some great trouble must have befallen you.” ‘* Yes,” Neria answered, casting down her gaze. ‘So great the only wonder is that Iam still alive.” Mrs. Charlton’s countenance betrayed per- plexity and curiosity. It was only natural that she should wonder what had so blighted the life of one so young ond beautiful. t “ Poor child,” she said. ‘‘ One of these days you shall tell me something of your history, I snow from your looks it must be a very sad one. But we will wait until you are stronger. All I desire just now is to know by what name to address you.” Neria hesitated. What should she say—she who was without a name she could rightfully call her own? “You may call me perdu,” she said, very low; adding to herself: ‘‘Perdu means lost; and soam 1—lost to peace and happiness for- evermore.” x Mrs. Charlton did not quite catch the words. ‘*Perdy?” she repeated. ‘‘I have heard that name before.” Neria suffered the mistake to pass without correction. After all, what did it matter? It was years since she had been called by any name to which she had a better right. Even when Lawrence found her she bad been passing under an alias the more fully to sever all con- nection betweeu herself and the friends from whom she had become estranged. ‘Thus it was that our hapless heroine became known to her new associates simply as “‘ Miss Perdy.” CHAPTER IX. A MYSTERY IN THE HOUSE. Oh, mischief! thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! : —SHAKFESPEARE. DAYs wore on, and Neria began slowly to convalesce, _ When she was able to sit up a few hours at a time, it was Gilbert Brandon who kept ‘her b ‘ ‘ 4 i company even more frequently than did bis sister. He bad taken a deep interest in the young girl from the first. Her beauty, ap- parent friendlessness, and settled sadness, ap- pealed strongly to his sensibilities, and fastened astrong hold upon his heart. He felt an in- stinctive longing to succor and comfort her. At first he brought favorite authors, and sim- ply read aloud while she listened. a they began to talk about passages th t both ad- mired, and were. often surprised to find their tastes singularly in harmony. It finally bap- pened that the book would be left bebind more frequently than otherwise, and they spent the whole hour in pleasant conversation. Neria never thought it possible that harm could result from thes» interviews. The kind- uess of these new-found friends gave her fresia hope and courage. The world seemed a brighter and better place than formerly, and she became almost reconciled to existence, Ab, how dif- ferent her lite might have been with such in- fluences continually thrown around her! On one occasion, when he was rising to leave | after an unusually pleasant interview, Neria extended her hand impulsively and said: “How can I ever repay you and Mrs. Charl- ton fcr your many kindnesses to me?” “Do not speak of. them,” he answered. “There is nothing you need to remember.” — ‘‘Y must leave you svon, and it will be a great; ae , t0 bid adieu to such pleasant associa- ions. . She = her frankly, under the impulse of th» moment, and was surprised to see him start and lose color. ‘ ‘* Leave us?” “Yes,” she replied. and strong again. 1am now gaining rapidly.” * But w rd need you go away ?” f She lifted her eyes in amazement at the ques- tion. ‘‘ Why? Because I have trespassed too long already upon your kindness. upon you is the common one of humanity. Be sides, I. have my own way to make in the world, It will never do to remain idle too long. A oan? tq begin looking for a situation without elay. A brief silence fell, curing which Gilbert. Brandon seemed to Le reflecting. detat ‘‘What can you dof” he asked, at length. ‘That is, what do you wish to do?” ‘*T have lived as governess in two or three families already. I can do that again, or find a situation as ‘companion’ to some elderly lady.” No more was said at the time. But the next day Mrs. Charlton came to Neria and said: , ‘*Gilbert and [ have been discussing your af- fairs. Cragnest is a large house; there ace no near neighbors, and the city is several miles away. lam often lonely during my brother's frequent absences from home, We nee often talked of bringing some cheerful young persor into the house, just to keep me company. How would you like to remain in that capacity?” Neria’s eyes filled with tears, it was 80 much better than anything she had expected. What a relief still to remain under that happy, peace - ful roof! “ ‘* How good you are!” she uttered. “But I fear you have made a want just to oblige me.” “Ob, no. And what if I bad? It is realiy myself who will be accommodated. I receive but little company and should miss you sadly were you togoaway. Nothing would suit me better than to keep you with me for the present. You will stay?’ Of course Neria consented. She even felt grateful to Heaven for opening up such an op- portunity; for no inward voice whispered a friendly warning of the frightful peril into which she was rushing unwittingly. Several mvre weeks went by, and as Neria’s health was now completely restored, she had left ber invalid-chamber for good, and entered upon the discharge of her new duties. These did not prove very onerous, She had m rely to answer Mrs. Charlton's letters, read to her, or exert herseJf to be entertaining and agreeable whenever her benefactress betrayed a desire for companionsbip. Cragvest was a commodious country-house built on the hills, overlooking the Hudson. Neria bad not mingled freely with the famil many days before she discovered that even this beautiful home had its skeleton. One wing of the mansion was shut up, and even the servants shook their beads and looked grave whenever it wus mentioned. Mrs. Charlton’s fair brow was often wrinkled with anxious care, and Gilbert Brandon’s hand- some face wore an expression of settled melam- 5] My only claim: “T shall soon be well © ’ ESAS ,
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ee 8 A MAN'S SIN. tice ace sania ——E on choly, as though he had drank deep of the cup of sorrow. . ‘““Why is it?’ Neria asked herself, wonder- ingly. ‘(Is there nowhere an Eden that grief and suffering have not invaded?’ At last there came a time when she was des- tined to learn more of this secret trouble. On her way to her chamber, one night, a random _ of wind, apparently from an open win- ow, suddenly extinguished the wax taper she earried, Hesitating an instant, undecided whe- ther to go on or turn back, she heard the soft patier of naked feet on the floor, and all at once something shadowy and dark sprung upon her with a strange cry, between a shriek and a snarl of rage. : Poor Neria was redag ooo frightened. A wseream of terror broke from her lips, and she re ey struggled frantically to break away from the ear vietine grasp that beld her fast. Despite every effort, however, the claw-like fingers that elutched her throat closed upon itso tightly her brain reeled, and she was almost suffocated. This deadly perillasted buta moment. There wame a rush of footsteps along the corridor, and Gilbert Brandon appeared, bringing a light. / eria saw him rush to ber rescue; then, for a . few seconds, she knew vothing more. ti ae _ When consciousness fully returned, she found herself alone, sitting close to the wall, her head resting against a chair. Smothered sounds could be heard proceeding from a narrow cor- ridor that, branching off to the left, led to the shut-up wing—threats, entreaties, plaintive " -eries, and an indescribable blending of sounds ,. as though all the fiends of torment had been 3 . suddenly let loose and were doing their worst. " “What can be the meaning of all this?” she thought, leaning forward with clasped hands and a wildly beating heart. Mr. Brandon's voice came indistinctly to her ears for an instant. He was speaking in the coaxing, supplicating accents one employs with a wayward child, but the words were inaudible, Finally a door closed in the distance, and even these sounds died away. Neria sut motionless, her eyes dilated with terror. After a long interval there came a _ glimmer of light at the far-end of the corridor, and Mr. Brandon swiftly approached. He was as pale as death, the muscles about his mouth twitching convulsively. : _ * Are you hurt?’ he asked, coming close to ah. her side. cf ‘<No, only frightened,” she answered, speak- es ri, Soe great difficulty. Te eal smothered exclamation broke from his lips. s ee “‘lam tempted sometimes beyond wy pow- ers of endurance, Ah, whatif that fiend had done you serious harm?” “Who was it?” Neria whispered, clinging eonvulsively to hisarm, ‘* What was it?” © A devil,” be answered, with a hoarse | ugh. She lifted her eyes wonderingly to his face. i v per arr that look. ‘‘ Wait until ome have reached m age, and had my experience. Did you thi the time had gone by when mortals are tor- mented with devils?” “TI do not understand you, Mr. Brandon.” Me: “No watter. I um often at a loss to compre- et _ thend myself. But enough of that. Thank Heaven you have escaped uninjured. I can think of nothing elsé.” i - As be stoo to raise her in his arms, Neria. _ . ‘was surprised to find him trembling like a leaf, ; and his forehead covered with heavy drops. ihe “Something dreadful has happened—I am sure of it!” she panted, ‘No, nothing that might not have been ex- pected. But this night’s incident shall be a -.warning tome, Leanon my arm, child. You looked like a. crushed lily a moment since, Are you feeli ng better?’ J — § * 16 ig well. I will see you to the door of nat our chamber. These corridors are not safe = or you after nightfall, it appe rs.” + Neria followed on, filled with vague wonder, Mise She still hoped he would offer some explanation . of the strange episode, but such was not his in- tenition. Placing his own lamp in her hand, he said in an earnest voice at parting: “Take my advice, child, and lock your cham- ber door. ‘Lockit securely. Never trust your- self a moment in any other way. ood- night. i Sleep had been banished from Neria’s. pillow by what had occurred. She tossed restlessly for hours, pondering the strange mystery, but nnable to arrive at asatisfactory solution. She could not divine who the strange being by whom she had been assaulted could be. “You doubt it?’ he rejoined, in answer to: ss ge 8 - aaa Cater The next morning she felt sorely tempted to question Mrs. Chariton, but was at a loss how to begin. The peculiar way in which the lady looked at her when they first met, plainly indi- cated that she knew all, They were sitting to- pees after breakfast—a meal from which Mr. ndon had absented himself, by the way— when Neria abruptly said: : ‘You have never told me, madam, why the north wing was shut up.” ‘“‘The remainder of the house is sufficient for present use,” was the quiet answer. ‘‘We do not wish to be burdened with the care of so much.” “Tt appears to be the finest portion of the house,” ‘* Yes, some of the rooms are very beauti- u “Some day I would like to explore them, if you have no objection,” Neria said, wistfully, to let the subject drop. Mrs. Charlton wrinkled her brows in some- thing like a frown. ‘*You would find nothing of interest, my | dear, Indeed, the less you have to do with that wing the better. Pray do not allude to it again.” Neria smothered a sigh of disappointment. She waited impatiently for Mr. Brandon to ap- pear, hoping he might volunteer information on the perplexing subject. He did not make the least allusioa to it, however, or show by his manner that anything unusual had occurred. Se ey went or quietly for several days. The only perceptible difference was shown in the deeper solicitude for the gir!’s comfort that Mr. Brandon manifested, and the fact that she was never permitted to move about the house at night unattended. One morning Neria had left the house for a solitary ramble in the grounds, and was pass‘ng the north wing, when she heard a strange, dis- ecrdant noise above her head, and on looking up beheld a wild, woeful face glued for an in- stant against the glass, Such a terrible face! The mere sight of it was enough to curdle the blood in Neria’s veins, an when a torrent of curses and angry vituper- ations broke from the bloodless lips, she shrunk back appalled. Ouly a chance word now and then reached the girl’s ears, but she was completely un- nerved. Rallying her failing courage at last by a terrible effort she rushed on to a sort of ob- servatory that had ‘been built close to the edge of the precipice, and climbing tte stairs, threw ; herself breathlessly into a seat. What had she behela?—what discovery made? Who was the mysterious being imprisoned in the shut-up chambers of the north wing? For some time she sat motionless, revolving these questions in her mind. Suddenly the lit- tle octagon chamber in which she sat began fill- ing with smoke, It was quite dense, almost stiflingly so, before she noticed it at all in her preoccupation. As she started up in alarm, the sharp, crackling sound of flames smote upon her The truth flashed upon her mind at once. The building was on fire! It had been erected to look down upon the river, and was only open on that side. Below was a sceer descent of a hundred feet, Escape in that direction was impossible. Neria rushed to the door. Some one had stolen up behind her, closing and locking it on the other side! The cry of uncontrollable terror that rose to her lips aS she made this discovery was echoed by a mocking voice without! CHAPTER X. TORTURED HEARTS. It wounds, indead, To bear affronts too great to be forgiven, And not have power to punish, —DRYDEN. Neri instantly comprehended the extent of her peril. It was the unknown inmate of the north wing who had stolen forth, locked her into the upper chamber of the observatory, and kindled a fire i the Pade rom ag the ter- rible purpose of roasting her alive She did not stop to yr herself what could have been the motive impelling to such a deed. The danger was too imminent. Beating ber clinched fists against the door, she shrieked loudly for succor. 2 p “Scream away!” cried the jeering voice be- low. ‘It willnotavail. Nvery sound of agony makes my heart dance \ith joy. Ashes to ashes! In a few moments nothing will be left of your fatal beauty save a few charred and blackened bones!” Neria sickened with horror. Was there no oe eeeeeOEOEOEEeEeE—E—E—_—E—_E— EEO \ ERASE TERETE escape? Must she indeed die miserably like this a terrible, agonizing death? Weary as she had grown of existence, it was dreadful to end it so tragically. ‘*Help me, oh, Father in heaven!” she with pallid lips. ‘* Do not let me perish thus!” That prayer was answered. urried foot- steps crossed the lawn, and she heard Mr, Brandon’s voice, as he addressed a few words to the would-be murderess in accents of blended anger and sorrow. _ ‘What new madness is this, Fedora? Why is it that you take such pleasure in destroying? Life and property are no longer safe where you are. You will yet compel me to deal severely with you. It isa mystery how you managed to escape again!” ‘*My master, the devil, helped me,” came the cunning rejoinder, “T believe be did. But you must comé back with me at once. Itis not prudent to leave you at large. Come, that’s a good soul, Fedora. The tone was persuasive, such as one might use to an irresponsible child. The woman laughed shrilly as she made response: “*T am rea y. Let us go quickly, Gilbert. The old tower is of no consequence; let it burnt It has long been an eyesore—a blot upon the landscape. Come, come! I wish to be locked up. Make haste, before my mood changes, and the devil gets hold of me again.” She was dving her best to hurry him away. Poor Neria, whose hearing seemed almost pain- fully acute at that trying moment, had caught every word. Mr. Brandon did not suspect her presence in that living tomb! Ho was going away—leaving her to perish! he thought called back her ebbing strength. Again rushing to the door she beat upon it with both hands, screaming in accents of awful ter- ror: ‘* Help, help! For God’s sake do not leave me here to be burned alive!” “ That cry was heard. Heavy foo came bounding ei the stairs—the door was t in with one determined blow, and Gilbert Bran- don sprung across the t!reshold, letting in a cloud of smoke and a torrent of hot, stifling i. “‘ Who calls?” he cried, unable to see anything for a moment in the thick atmosphere, ‘Surely I heard a voice.” Then his glance fell upon Neria, She was crouching on the floor, almost at his feet, faint and giddy with terror. Uttering a wild cry, he caught her up, and drew her with a frantic ges- ture to his breast. ; Ht salads Ob, my God! This is too dread- ul!” The next instant he was raining hot kisses on. her lips, her cheek, her bright brown hair, Al! the mad love that had lain crushed in his heart for many days, found expression in that mo- ment of terrible anguish. He clasped her in his arms, laid his cheek against hers, murmured a thousand words of passionate endearment, * “Oh, my love, my love! If that fiend had su ed in her purpose, I would have perished with you.” : Neria felt dazed and bewildered. She could not even gp ce in that strong, breathless em- brace. She lay helpless in his arms while be made his way slowly down the staircase. It was already crumbling away. The flames had caught the baluster, and more than once the terrified girl felt their hot breath scorching her cheek. The descent had barely been accom- lished when the stairs fell with a loud crash. Outside stood the mad, gibbering creature who had wrought this work of destruction. Neria caught one glimpse of the wild, livid ~ face, and eyes burning with a lurid light, then — fainted away. She was lying on the sofa in the back parlor when she recovered, Mrs. Charlton stood over her with a bottle of smelling-salts, pale as death, with tears streaming down her face. “The fire!” Neria panted, starting up, and failing to realize at once ber changed situation. ‘‘It is coming nearer! My , 1 shall be burned alive!” Mrs. Charlton laid her hand on the girl’s burning brow, trying to soothe her, ** Be calm, dear child, You were in danger, but it is over now. There is nothing to fear. Do you not see that this is the old, familiar room where we have spent so many happy hours, and that I am here beside you?” “Tdonow. But I was half-crazed with ter- ror. Oh, it was dreadful!” She hid her face in her hands, at the thought of the peril she had escaped, and shuddered con- vulsively. , “That woman saw me enter the tower,” she
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added, after a-thoughtful pause. ‘‘She was at ene of. the windows inthe north wing when I went by. Of courseshe tollowed. me, and set fire to the building for the sole purpose. of destroy- ing me. What have Lever done to gain her en- mity? Ob, why did she do it, Mrs. Charlton? ae didshe?” ““The poor ereature,is mad—not accountable for her own. acts,” was the answer. “But, why has»she, selected me. to; vent her maiice upon? -There must. be some reason. The mystery of the north wing is partially clear to wy mind. This madwoéman is shut up there. it was she who.assaulted me.once before. She seems to feel: particularly malignant... toward me. Why is,it,, Mrs, Cbarltont. I think you tould explain the riddle—if so di a hg Chariton flushed a little, but shook her » It is useless trying. to account for the va- aries of the insane. Pray, think no more about tho matter, poor child, All danger is over, .My brother and I will see to it that you are exposed “o no further risks.” “But who is that dreadful woman?” The reply came after a hesitating pause. — _‘* & friendless soul my brother shelters out of ity. . There is noone el:e,to take an interest in er. L regret maton ieee that she has crossed your path, » I hoped to keep youignorant of her very existence.,Tbeservants know that she in- habits the north wing, but they are. pledged to secrecy ; and)no one outside our little household ever su ts the facts.”. 4 «ie devine ne Neriatifted her eyes in a perplexed look. “I do not know why she should be shut: up like a prisoner.” en ‘© Because it: is dangerous for her to run at large. You can see that for yourself. And there is another reason ;for the course we pur- sure—one qiite as potent as the first.” Glancing quickly round the.room, Mrs. Char!- ton drew nearer, and added in suppressed tones: _**You are such a sensible person, Miss Pady, Tam tempted to tell you more.| I know you can be trusted with a secret. That unfortunate woman has been guilty of a great. crime! I weed not recount. the circumstances. connected with it. They are too horrible for me to touch Upon. » All that has kept Fedora from being in- fareerated within ithe gloomy walls of a prison Pe fact that the authorities are ignorant of er existence, It is generally. believed that she Fear In an accideni, years ago. Gilbert and _ hhave kept her secreved here.ever since. You imegine, avords. cannot describe, what, a burden she has been to us.” wats * Mrs. Chariton sighed. heavily, the old look of anxious care.that Neria remembered so well re- appearing in her face. ’ : “It would be cruel to punish one in her con- _ dition,” the<young girl said. ‘(If told the truth, I am-sure the authorities would do no inne than send the poor creature to an asy- MrsCharitou shook her head... . " ao page is as satione gy ou ~ Ode It -would be,no. easy-matter to have her Saonaked insane. Besides, Gilbert will not run bir! risk. It is a terrible thing for him—” pinke broke off abruptly, a flush rising to ber “1 mny A be 1 , ; ; F told, allithae of talk so myc, Tow have been Cn tom Sounded outside the door, Mrs. dbensis co. ey. “It is my brother,” Ishalltell him be may come in oe . She savas; fore Neri Id i ; The startled girl.sat y fuss bling Pon to.foot, her face suffused with, Tiehes ‘All at Gladly woald-she have given heen at her command, to be of a meeting after what Dsp Mr. Bran on advanced slowly into the room. to calmness; very pale, was grave and al- ee stern “sa : rexpreesion. a “Lam g 0 find you so muc tter Perdy,* he said, very quietly, “It wasa _ row escape; Ii shudder to think of it.” The words were such as he might have ad- Gressed to. a stranger. Just then he ventured to Jook at her for the first time. Had her manner been composed, like his own, allt might have been well. But her blushes and embarrassment utterly broke him down, ~. Nevia!. Oh, my darling!" he cried, flinging _ himself on his knees before her. ‘Is it possible that my love is returned? Ah, this is more than T expected!” No wonder he was deceived. Even when the | A MAN'S SIN. Sg re ren a A BSS. Neen ee ane nee ennn nn nnea startled girl drew back, livid and gasping, every particle of color gone from her lovely face, he failed to comprehend the real state of her feelings. “My own love!” he gasped, as though the words were torn, in spite of every effort, from his unwilling lips. ‘ After all I have suffered I am youchsafed one glimpse of paradise, This moment is at once the happiest and the bitterest of my whole life. llove you, and you lovemein return! Though you are lost to me forever, there is ecstasy in the thought!” Neria put up her hand to stop him. She had turned sick with terror and anguish. ““Hush!”'she breathed. ‘You do not know what you are saying. Never, never speak to me like that again!” ok ‘I did not intend to speak now,” he an- swered, his face distorted with suffering. “God forgive me! Tama wretch. I have no right to utter such words to any woman. Oh, what have I done? How could I so far forget myself?” And he struck both hands against his fore- head with a gesture of intolerable anguish. CHAPTER Xt. REVELATIONS. Talk not of comfort, ‘tis for lighter Mls: I will indulge my sorrows, and give way To all the pangs and fury of despair. Dh ADDISON, . NERIA looked at hint a moment in silence. This sudden burst of contrition surprised and startled her. What did it mean? Ignorant as he was of her own history, it could only have reference to himself. “Leave me, Mr. Brandon,” she said, at length, in a faint voice. nothing incommon. This scene is too painful to be protracted.” ** Do you forgive me?” he asked, huskily, lift- ; ing his burning eyes to her face, * For what?” '* For deceiving you. Of course you have di vined the truth—what relation that wretched mad woman bears to me! Ob, it is horrible! 1 cannot tell you what I have suffered through her. It was a mistake not to have told you all long ago! But [ meant no wrong; I aid not realize my own weakness, and now it is too late,” ” There was something ‘appalling in the low cry of agony that broke from his lips. ‘1 do not understand,” taltered Neria. “That woman—why do you speak of her again?” ° ‘Ah, how can [ tell you?’ : blood from Neria’s beart. “She is your wife?” “ee Yes. ” « He turned away, and strode up and down the room for a while, his features working’ con- vulsively, Then be confronted Neria again. She was sitting motionless as a figure carved in marble, but her eyes were full of a divine com- passion as she lifted them to his face, . “Tam shocked and grieved by the revelation you have made,” she said, ‘‘‘ Mrs, Charlton had already told me something of that poor soul— I pity you. From the depths of my heart I pity you. It must be a terrible th ng to be ed by destiny with one like “ Then you have forgiven me for suffering my heart to go out in love for you while duty and honor bound me to another?” , a there was no response he went on fever- ishly: tis of did not realize my own danger until it wes too late. Years , when this trouble first came upon me, I took up the grievous bur- den of life, resolved to bear it uncomplainingly to the end. I have so borne itup tothe moment you came among us. The shame and torment I suffered were hidden in the recesses of) my own heart. I withdrew from the world and de- voted myself exclusively to the care of Fedora, shielding ber in every possible way. I bore pa- tiently with her ill-temper, waywardness and tty jealousies. No man ever tried harder to 0 his duty. “The stru; but, not all. le has well-nigh broken me down, however. I have grown old and gray in the flower of my manhood. Endurance: fails, pa- tience is well-nigh worn out. There must be a limit to all things. I was sick and tired of the burden of life long before you came among us, Miss Perdy.” k Neria ya slightly, a always on? os earing the false name spoken unexpec , pace apap forward in an attitude of silent ae ntion, ‘* You and I can have | A sudden conviction drove every drop of her. ‘Let me recall fora moment the memorable day when I found you in Central Park,” he con- tinued, the muscles about his mouth twitching with pain that could not be suppressed. ‘‘ Your beauty and helplessness kindled a flame in my breast that has never died out. I brought you here, and awaited with result of the illness that followed, I had found a new interest in life, The sight of your fresh young face was a perpetual joy tome. I could have gazed on it. forever. “No suspicion of danger crossed my mind un- til the night. Fedora assaulted you in the cor- ridor. Then l awakened suddenly to a realiza- tion of the truth—-that J had léarned to love you with a mad intensity of which I bad deemed myself incapable... { had not the cour- age to flee from the peril that menaced us both, however. It seemed too dreadful to shut out the only ray of comfort, that bad fallen upon my solitary, life,..1 imagined myself strong enough to hide my madness in my own heart | forever. Oh, fatal mistake! Love like mine can never be suppressed!” | He hid his face in his hands a moment, strug- | gling for self-control. | Neria felt deeply touched.. How grand, noble | and self-denying. this man seemed, even in his ' sorrow! Unconsciously,she compared him with ; Lawrence, feeling a vague wish that the latter | had possessed more of bis attributes. i“ Perbaps I have ‘said -too much,” be pdded, huskily, after a brief pause, “‘If.so, 1 have only to crave : as for having loved you... This is the last. exhi- bition of folly towhich I shail give way. Here- after we will be friends. I wish you to forget | that this episode ever occurred.” He. was turning away, his face full of a | yearning sadness; but Nevia stopped him by a | gesture, : ' “One moment,” she said, with forced calm- iness, ‘I havea confession to ake in return | for yours. If you are guilty, 1 am immeasur- ably more so. If you have worn a mask, so have I. If you have hidden in, your heart a sorrowful secret. that, was eating your very life away, I. know how to sympathize wi you, “What do you mean! Is it possible—” Sbe did not wait for bim to continue. — “While I have strength ,to do so,” she re- sumed, dropping her eyes, ‘‘let me tell you why I do not love you, and never could, under any circumstances,. My whole, heart. is given to another! He has proyen himself unworthy, it is true, but Jove is dong-suffering! Even the memory of past happiness is. sweeter than any | present passion could be. Though you were a | free man at this,moment, I could never be more to vou than a friend.” Gilbert Biandon. grew yery pale. Though conscious that Neria had experienced some bitter. trial in her past life, he had never dreamed of this. She had loved, and suffered through that love! Ah, what wretch could be base enough to cost that tender heart a single pang? “IT have deceived you and Mrs. Charlton—. the kindest,. best, friends I ever had,” sae re- sumed,, ‘IT should have told you all, long ago, but shaure sealed my lips. I haye nv right.even to the name I bear.” “No matter,” be said, catching his breath, — upon us one that is not. your own,” ‘‘1¢ eame about quite by accident, in the first — place. I told Mrs. Chariton she might call me perdu—lost. Itwas a foolish speech, and meant the word cor- | “‘ You must, have had good xeason for imposing nothing. She failed to cate tly, and ever since I have been known as Miss Perdy.’| The error was allowed to pass uncorrected What difference did it make? I do not know myself what name righttully be- longs to me.” r, Brandon looked at a her in amazement, » ‘* How is that possibler” “Because I am a disowned wife—or worse than that.” She buried her face upon her arms that she | might not see the expression of horror and an- | guish with which he regard: d her, | | ‘Let me tell my s‘ory from the beginning,” | She went on, speaking rapidly, with ber face was one of wealth and influence, ome was in Washington. We moved in the best social circles of the city. Reverses carne, how- ever; we were deprived of everything. My mother died; my iather’s health failed, and my r Edna and f were thrown upon our own resources, ‘| was scarcely sixteen at the time, Trouble had changed my father’s whole mature. He a poignant anxiety the our forgiveness for that, ax well. still averted. ‘ Years ago my father’s family — ,
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i? eae y " | Son he f =f , became exacting and tyrannical. When at length a suitor for my hand appeared in the person of a wealthy old gentleman more than treble my own age, papa would hear to no re- monstrance, but commanded me to prepare my- _ self for the marriage without delay. “*T need not dwell upon the’ scenes that fol- lowed. My whole soul rebelled against the un- natural union. Prayers, tears and expostula- tions were in vain, however. I had my choice to obey, or leave my father’s house forever. “Bdna sided with papa. She could not en- dure a life of poverty, and added to my misery by “her reproaches arid entreaties. good. ‘You divine the result, perhaps. Unable to comply with their wisbes, I fled one fatal night from home, and going to another city, obtained a position as governess in a private family. From that day to this I have never entered my my sister.” She paused a moment to gather strength. Mr. Brandon stood asif turned to stone, pallid and motionless.. The worst was yet to come, and he seemed to divine intuitively the terrible nature of the revelation that awaited him. Neria’s head sunk lower and lower, and it was in a scarcely audible voice that she finished her story. Very briefly she oth of the chance meeting with Lawrence Gordon, the sudden passion his father’s house or heard one word from him or | handsome face inspired, the rash marriage—or. what she took to be one—that followed, the long, happy months of her’ sojourn at Lae George, and finally of the terribie awakening that came to her brief but happy dream when _ she learned of her lover’s unworthiness, and he -\ choked voice. . need.” te s ah ing _ earnest calmly upon what has occurred, Then I shall . them against his cheek for a moment. a: long f _ refuge?” she murmured. - proached the couch on which Neria was lying, to be expected that you would volunteer in- had cruelly deserted her. The wretched man pressed his hands to his ‘gr les more than once before she concluded, He had drunk deep of the cup of sorrow al- ready, but never had he experienced a moment so full of agony as this. “Poor, poor child!” he said, in a hoarse *““How you have suffered! And ft have only added to your misery by my un- warrantable folly.” ‘Do not reproach “yourself; there is no . “How can you ever forgive me?’ ‘She raised ber head, her beautiful eyes shin- upon him full of remorse and contrition. Itis I who have need of pardon,” she said, humbly. “I had noright to enter this house vunder false pretenses, ® Had the truth been known, I might not have been harbored here a vingle ‘day. vr : h, you would, you would,” he answered, tly. ‘Forgive me for having sullied your beauti- ful home by sg ab oe Lhave been almost happy here. My troubles seemed less in-up- portable. [ could not tear myself away at once. I had suffered so much—the very at- mosphere was full of peace.” ~ a “Neria—” She quickly raised her hand. — “Hush! I am not strong as I was once. Please go away. Give me time to reflect be able to see my way more clearly than at Fee: He clasped her passive fingers—even laid “God help you,” he said; and so left her. Neria turned her face to the wall with a sobbing sigh. Jt seemed as though her last friend had gone, from her. “*Must I tear myself away from even this ‘Oh, it is “very hard.” > > CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF) FATE. What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide, : ; + SHAKESPEARE, Morz than an hour went by, and at last a soft, gliding step entered th- room, and ap- “(Gilbert has told me alk” said Mrs. Charl- ~ ton’s low, swéet voice, “and I am here’ to offer ety ve and sympathy. Your Jot has beeu a, bi 7 . itter one, poor child.’ , : _ The girl lifted her streaming eyes'to the kind face that bent above her. big Piss _ Have you no word of reproach to utter for having deceived you?” she asked. ‘Not one?’ ' _** Why should If Noone ever inquired very elosely into your past history, and it vas not : \ } She thought | I might sacrifice myself for the common , SS. eS eS eS eee qj ot A MAN'S SIN. formation concerning it. The only deception you have practiced has been in the silence that you haye maintained,” ; “It was a distressing subject to talk about, I often felt tempted to speak, and knew it was my duty. But, my courage always failed when it camé to the test. You had been so kind to me | —I could not endure the thought of cold words and averted looks. But-God has taken his own | way of setting things right, Iam sure you can bear with me a little longer.” ‘What do you mean?’ Mrs. Charlton in- quired, struck by the hopelessness of the tone. ‘““OF course 1 must leave here at once, must go out into the world to.try my fortunes anew,” ** Alas! my poor child.” ‘*You see the necessity as clearly as [ do,” Neria went on, catching her breath in a sob. “‘ Kvenif you were willing to give me a refuge, | | knowing my history as you do now, I could not remain, Circumstances have rendered this im- possible.” ‘A slight flush kindled in, the cheeks of the elder lady. “Of course you refer to my brother’s unhappy attachment for you,” she said. ‘‘It is useless for us to disguise: matters any longer. How unfortunate that you should have won his heart so entirely! Iam not surprised, however. You are just the sort of person he could learn to love idolatrously, were every obstacle removed. Poor fellow! what has he not endured!” Then, after a moment given to reflection, she added: : , ‘You, have decided wisely — you must go away. This house is no longer a proper refuge for you. Deeply as it will grieve mo to part with you I cannot urge you to remain.” ‘Let me go at once—this very hour,” cried Neria, starting up with burning cheeks. “Calm yourself. Thereis go need of extreme haste. I intend finding you a good position with some kind person, to recompense you for the one you have lost. Nothing less would satisfy me. I will drive to the city the first thing to-morrow morning, and make inqui_ies among my friends.” ears. ‘*] will do anything you advise,” she said, humbly. ‘That is right, dear. 1 know you will find it God for encouragement. He will give you strength for whatever trials are in store for ou. s During the long hours of the night that fol- lowed, Neria lay wide awake, thinking of ber wrongs, and ths fresh trouble that bad arisen. It seemed like a second banishment to leave this comfortable home that she had found so pleasant, and go out into the cold, unfeeling world again. . ’ What should she do? The thought of Law- rence rose more than once in her troubled wind. Sbe had heard no wordof him during ail these weeks. now winter was almost. over—-the month March had come round. Had he married ber rival during the interval, and so raised an in- superable barrier between them? No matter,” sighed the poor soul, “It is my marriage that. Heaven will sanction as the true one, Ll entered into it in good faith. It will stand as long.as the werld eudures. Icare Man has one way of judging of these thin God another. I havedone nothing for which to reproach myself.” , : The temptation to,seek her.recreant lover and make one last appeal to his sense of right and honor rose strong within her breast... Such 4 step seemed useless, however. If he had mar- ried again—as was, more than probable—all hope of beving ber wrongs adjusted was gone forever. Nothing remained but to take up the burden of life alone, meeting with a bold trovt whatever vicissitudes fate had im store for her. ‘Te I had loved him less. idolatrously* he mizbt not bave been false to me,” sha though . Before morning dawned she had sué¢ceeded in calming her fevered pulses little, When Mrs. Chariton came up-Sstairs, to SAY BOON Y before setting out tor the city, Neria had dressed her- self, and was sitting up at the open window, pallid and cold, but very calm, f “Take courage,” whispered the kind lady. “You will always find a friendin me-—I do not intendsever to lose sight of: you. There’ are hosts of good people. m the world. I hope to find you.a home so pleasant vou will soon cease to regret the one you leave behind.” at ¢ s 4 / 1 = . Neria fell back again, her eyes flooded with: hard to go among strangers again, but look&to . It was October when they parted, and. of | not though he did say it was illegal and void. . The day wore on. Finding the solitude of her own room inexpressibly irksome, Neria finaily went down-stairs for a book, hoping thus to be- guile the long hours of their weariness until Mrs. Charlton’s return, - ' As she opened the library door, some one rose | up from a little table’ beside it. 16 was Mr. | Brandon. Neria drew back with a startled | ery—she had seen him drive awsy two hours | before, and did not know he had returned. ‘You here?” she stammered. | Hecame toward her. His face was haggar. | with bluish circles under the eyes. One Jook I | sufficed to show that he had'suffered intensely, “JT cannot bear to think*that I am driving you away,” be said, hurriedly, clasping her trembling hand:” ‘* Nothing grieves meso much as. that. What can be done?” ‘“Nothing,” she replied, ‘ft have thought the matter oyer again ‘and again. I would do anything im the world to spare you a'single bene. ° * ““You and Mrs. Charlton have been very good to me,” she said, with forced calmness, ican never thank you sufficiently.” ’ ‘Let me tell you of a plan that has suggested itself tomy mind. I have long felt an inclina- | tion to go abroad. I might set out on my travels at once, leaving you ‘here to cheer m sister’s solitude while I am absent,” ? Neria understood at once the sacrifice he in- tended. With him away there was nothing to hinder her from remaining at Cragnest as long as she desired. "He was ready to go in order that she might stay. “No, no, no!” she vehemently exclaimed. “Tt must not be. Iwill not be guilty of driving you away from your own fireside. It is your pees and [have noclaim to be here, not the east, You are very generous and noble, and I thank you a thousand times. But it is I who must go. Do not waste upon me another anx- ious thought. I ami reconciled to the change— or soon shall be.” ns Not trusting herself to say more; she broke from him abruptly and hurried back to ‘her chamber. Her heart fluttered painfully, sho ~ knew not mats ' “How sad it is that one so noble should be doomed to such a life,” she thought. “Toa good, true woman Gilbert Brandon. would ave made a tnost devoted husband. Now he 1s tied to that fiend in human shape. Ah, what terrible mistakes men, and women, too, often make!” : It was dark when Mrs, Charlton returned. She came a a at once, looking both pleased and relieved. i ““T have succeeded even beyond my expecta- tions, dear,” she said. ‘‘ After some inquiries, an old friend referred me to a lady who is de- sirous of securing some agreeable young person for a companion. Of course I nstenéd: 0 call upon her, and the result is that she has agreed to take you upon trial. You can go to-mor- row. Neria’s heart beat a little quicker, Ah, if she had but known! é : 5 ‘‘ What is the lady’s name?” she inquired, af- ter a brief pause. , , “Mrs, Gerald Atherton.” j “ Tt awakened no familiar chord in Neria’s mind--she bad never heard it before, _ “Mrs. Atherton is somewhat of an invalid,” Mrs. Charlton explained. ‘She has been mar- | ried some months, but her health began to fail long before. It is my opinion that she has con- sumption. She has given up society on accounts of ber health, and her husband is away on some a or other in Europe, She leads a lonely life of it, with only servants nthe house. She wishes some ‘one who will provea pleasant Seen and help enliven the hours of lone- ess. f : ‘* Did she think I would suit’ her?” “Very wellindeed. You are just the sort of person she was wishing to secure.” Of course Neria did not dreamof declining the, situation. Mrs. Charlton bad*assured her that Mrs. Atherton would prove a very de- sirable person to: be with, and there was noth- ing more required. Early the next morning shé set out on her short, journey. Mrs. Charlton embraced and wept over her, exacting promises of frequent visits, but Mr. Brandon did not appear. Neria was spared the embarrassment of a formal. parting with him. ' The Atherton mansion was a large, hand- some house in the suburbs of the city. Tha — grounds about it were spagious, and evidently well kept during the properseason. Everything Neria observed Indicated the abundant means . and good taste of the owner, : fac
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y « “ A well-bred servant ushered her into the spa- cious hall. | ‘What name shall I say?” he in- quired, throwing open the door of a small but handsomely-furnished reception-room... : Neria hesitated. She could» not quite recon- cile if with her conscience 'to give a false name, and yet of course Mrs.»Charlton had recom- mended her'as ** Miss Perdy.” ““You may tell Mrs. Atherton it isthe young persou who'bhas come to be her companion;” she said, at length. Tbe servant bowed, and departed. Neria sunk into one of the Juxurious chairs, a strange feeling of nervousness that almost amounted to fear coming over her. It seemed, oddly pots ye as though a crisis in her life were at and, ry Presently the soft rustle: of a woman’s gar- ments siruck upon herears. Neria was sitting with her head cast dejectedly down, but she raised it. » A lady, tall, graceful and elegantly » was coming toward» her with out: Stretched hands. Neria gave a violent start, then sprung to her feet. 1 Bi “Edna! she gasped, her-hoarse voice betray- ip Doyen ‘dread and incredulity. s. Atherton took a. step nearer. For one moment she stood transfixed, as though sudden- turned to stone. Finally a suppressed cry broke from her trembling lips. tt : “My sister! Is it possible that I have found you at last?’ : And the two so long separated, but now strangely reunited, rushed into each. other’s CHAPTER XTi. OF ONE RACE. : Isurvive, To mock theexpectation of the world. \ — SHAKESPEARE, Som time elapsed before Neria or Mrs. Atherton cou'd rally from the shock of this un- expected meeting.» There were many kisses, tears and/loving’embraces before at jast they became a little more composed. , m finally threw herself. on a low Mrs, At stool at Neria’s feet. ber rich dress trailing the locke et unheeded. She-was a very attractive- ie. ing ‘woman, with a. fair, high-bred face, pr blue eyes, and abundant blonde bair. @st now her usually pale. cheel:s were deli- cately flushed with the hectic of excitement. She had taken both Neria’s hands in her own, and while clinging to them. was lookiog wp iuto the girl’s face with a gaze full of:tende: uess and eager curiosity. , ‘ How. strange it seems that my hired com- panion should wae to bemy own sister,” she exclaimed. ‘fL.can. scarcely realize the fact even yet, -Tell me-how it happens tiat you were reduced to the extren.ity of seeking such a position.” a eid uw bdebe ‘What else could I do? I was friendless and >, penniless when I left my father’s house.” Ob, why did you ever go away ?” Neria eranped her eyes with a look of gentle roach, ‘Would you have wished me to remain, and wed the man papa had selected for my husband, that I should always dislike knowing as I did and despise him ?” 1 erhaps you acted wisely: at least I hope it Mbps the best, _, But why did you never come is hel even write to, us? We hunted every- wher or eureven advertised in the .pa- ‘lt was my intention ‘to i +4 from the old life,” Neria i Ao ory eae that I no longer had any part in it. I had - made my decision, and meant. to abide by it,” ‘You .were always a_ litt) : wale €@ headstrong, Neria started, at the sound of the. familiar pet name. always addressed her. What an eternity had elapsed since she last heard it! She felt as though she had lived a century in the mean _ time. Soshe had, if duration is measured by what one suffers. rv : t was Mrs. Atherton. who, broke the brief sj- Tenee that fell between them. ; ** What changes have occurred since you left us,” she exclaimed. ‘I was liv ng inyWashing- ton then, and had no idea what my future would be. Papa always urged we to marry a man of wealth and position, however, and,so I have. You are not to inter that I wadded Gerald for his moncy, though. tis nob true— love him devotedly.” . Yeria did not even see the slow flame that kindled in her sister’s eyes, All her thoughts just then were of another. It was one by which her sister had | A MAN’S SIN. “Papa?” she gasped. ‘‘I have heard nothing of him in all these years. Nothing!” "piney _Mrs. Atherton’s face took on a sad expres- sion. ‘¢ Poor papa is dead.” “Dead? “Yes. s But his last words were of you, expressing a desire for your forgiveness, He felt that he had been severe and unjust in his dealings with you. : Neria’s tears fell fast...Cruelly as he had treated her, she had always Joved him. “How. sad,”she murmured, ‘‘I was not even permitted to receive his sid ing blessing.” ‘‘There is more to tell,” Mrs, Atherton re- sumed... ‘‘Do. you remember having heard apa speak of a very eccentric old lady, Mrs. aunce, w ho was mamma’s aunt?” ‘*She-is almost .fabulously rich, and has no near heirs to her immense fortune. Well, who should appear unexpectedly at papa’s funeral but this same Mrs, Faunce. She resides here, in. New York, and brought me.home with ber ationce. Before a month elapsed, sho, had for- mally adopted me.” ; ‘ Neria’s surprise and pleasure were very great. ‘‘ You have been fortunate,” she gently said. ‘But I never forgot you, Neelie, even for a moment, After the change was effected I sought you more anxiously than ever, though secretly. Aunt Faunce became almost as much interested as myself in tie. search... We. left no means untried to:find you. But. you. had dropped the family name, it mapeerss Mrs. Chariton called you ‘ Miss Berd y,; LI believe—” ‘‘That was not the name I took at first,” Neria interrupted, .‘‘Of course I did not wish it) known ,that.I was one of the Thorntons, of Washington; therefore. | took the more ple- beian name of Granger. . It was the first that suggested itself.” “What a dreadful life you-must have led! It seems very unfortunate that you, a Thorn: ton, should haye been. driven to the expedient of working for your daily bread.” _., ‘‘T never felt tbat, labor degraded me.” ‘Well, you were always. peculiar in your notions,” came tke somewhat. impatient. re- sponse. ‘‘ But itis.all over and past—we will not quarrel about it now. Ihave found. you, aud we will never be separated again. Your days of toil are over. I shall take care of you— " Wait,” said Neria, putting up her, hand with an expression of pan. ‘‘Make»no rash yromises. ou may feel differently when you ave heard my story.” , Mrs. Atherton looked surprised... **T don’t know why Ishould. We are sisters, end § would do anything in the world for you. But proceed with what you have tosay. Even the most trifling items in your experience will be. of interest to, me.” Neria knelt down beside her sister, and with her face hidden on the latter’s shoulder told all the story of her later years—how_ Lawrence Gordon had met, married and then discarded her, wrecking life and peace, and well nigh breaking ber tortured heart. . The horror with which Mrs. Atherton listened to the tale can be better imagined than de- scribed. She was a very proud woman, and it was a terrible blow to learn, that ber sister had been so woefully deceived—a Thornton dragged down to the level of baser Eraa ny = For a moment she felt like throwing off the clinging arms wreathed about her neck. But a better impulse prevailed. Neria herself was blameless, she had not deserved the grievous eee ane that had fallen upon her, and Mrs. therton, with all her failings, was a just wo- m an. ‘The wretch! the cowardly villain!” she.ex- claimed, almost. beside herself, ‘‘ How dared be so trifle with a person of your birth and breedin ? The name Thornton o/ itself should have been sufficient to shield you.” ‘ ‘‘Recollect, Lawrence never, knew it was mine,” Neria answered, between hysterical sobs. ‘‘Some whimsical feeling prevented me from/telling him until it was too late. It was only as Neria Granger, the governess, that he knew me. I never disclosed to him the real favts.of my history—he is not acquainted with them now.” ! , “No matter. Wicked, heartless villain! He must have seen that you were a lady, despite the menial position you filled. I shall tell Gerald v hen he returns from abroad. My hus- band will seek him out and punish bim as he so richly deserves.” ; y ‘Prepare yourself for bad news,” she said. | He died more than a year since, wid oer ‘‘Oh, no, no,” cried Neria, earnestly. ‘That would do me no good. Lhave no desire to see him suffer.” _ “Would you leave such a wretch'to run his reckless race unmolested ?” ‘*He no. longer Joves me. Nothing could re- store my faith and trustin him. My wrecked life can never be made again what it was before he crossed my path, Any punishment that could be meted out to him would not avail me. Mrs. Atherton.rose, and walked up and down the room in great excitement. Her proud spirit chafed under the insult that had been parO RP upon her through Neria’s recréant bus- and. ** The facts connected with the marriage shal! be_ thoroughly investigated!” she exclaimed. ** Who knows but it was perfectly legal, despite that man’s assertions to © bontre La He has shown himself base enough for a! iniquity.” Her emotion subsided after a little, she was able to discuss the matter more quietly _Pre- sently she took Neria up-stairs, and showed her the pretty suit of rooms that had been fitted up for her own use, y “My husband is very fond .of me—he sur- rounds me with prety AuROhy she said. ‘‘How unfortunate that be should be away! He would know just what to advise. Ah, it ‘would kill me if he were to abandon me as you have been abandoned.” ” “T believe it would.” “But he is incapable of such, baseness. You do nct know how kind and good he is! It wasa great trial for him to leave me even for a few weeks,” aA at ‘ “Why did he go?” Neria inquired, rather ab- ren . . “Some business complications required his resence in Europe. Inever attempted to un- erstand them—it would have been of no use, But he was likely to loso a large sum of money —the bulk of his fortune. The matter was too important to be trusted to an agent, so he went himself,” ._ Neria made no Spe She was mentally'con trasting her sister’s happy lot with her own. How dreadful it seemed that ‘such contrasts must be, ; poh ‘ “T will show you Gerald’s picture,” Mrs. Atherton said, after a pause, “It is the only one in my possession. He does not like the trouble of sitting. Here it ison the mantle, J keg it where I can run at any time and look at i ‘She lifted it eagerly, and was. coming for- ward to display it when the bit of painted ivory slipped through her fingers and fell upon the plowing coals in the grate. Instant] it was blackened and discolored past, recognition, _Acry of dismay broke from Mrs. Atherton’s lips. She sunk upon a chair bursting into bys terical tears, ‘‘How careless of me! And _T wanted so much that you should see it. Gerald is the handsomest man I ever saw.. The accident al- most seems like an evil omen.” -_ os CHAPTER XIV. A SUDDEN ADOPTION, My joys, like men in crowds, press out so fast, Taey stop by their own numbers, and their haste, Str Roserr Howarp, Tue morning hours slipped away unnoticed by the reunited sisters,. They had so much tm say to each other! There were a thousand questions to ask, and as many more to be answered. Every one knows how it is after a long seperation of those sincerely attached to each other. , The abrupt ringing of the dinner-bell startled them both. ‘So late!” Mrs, Atherton exclaimed, looking at her watch, ‘‘ I had no idea howrapidly time was flying. Where are your boxes?” ‘‘ Down-stairs,” Neria replied. ‘‘I have but one, and brought it in the carriage with'me, A, hired companion does not require many dresses, you know.” Mrs. Atherton did not notice the half-sad smile that accompanied the words. She rung for a servant, and ordered the box to be brought up. The instant it was unlocked she drew out the poor, plain garments it contained, tossing them disdainfully aside, one by one, . ‘‘ There is really nothing fit to put on. I don’t know how you could ever inake up your mind to wear such dreadful things, Neelie. would better become a dairy-maid.” “They are the best I could afford.” We must make haste to dress, They
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nee ‘Well, you shall never wear them again. I will lend you some of mine, until you can get ay you kept yourself all these years?” an outfit made.” : Going to the wardrobe she took down a plain blue silk with trimmings of creamy lace. Ne- ria remonstrated—she would sooner have worn the simple black serge she hadon, Mrs. Ather- _ ton would not hear to it, however. a ‘* My husband’s mother is in the house—you will meet her at dinner,” she said. ‘‘I do not wish she should see you dressed like a common servant.” Under these circumstances, Neria felt com- pelled to yield. Once arrayed as her sister de- sired, she scarcely knew her own reflection in the mirror, however, but blushed and drew ‘Why, how beautiful you are!” Mrs, Ather- ton exclaimed, in accents of genuine pleasure and approval. ‘Fine dress makes all the dif- ference in the world. I am quite plain beside ou.” _ Going down-stairs they found the elder Mrs. Atherton already seated at the dinner-table. She was a handsome, well-preserved lady of % fifty with a somewhat haughty cast of coun- tenance, Neria was struck at once by some- thing singularly familiar in her looks. “This is my sister Neelie,” Edna said, not deeming it necessary to m:ke an elaborate ex- planation. ‘1 think you have heard me speak of her, madam. She has returned quite unex- pectedly, and will remain with me in future.” Mrs. Atherton merely bowed, but her coun- tenance expressed interest and curiosity. She had heard something of Neria’s flitting so long before, but not all the particulars. ‘*T know Edna is delighted to see you,” she said at length, still scanning the girl’s face at- bo i ‘*You have been a long while sepa- rated. : “Very long,” Neria answered, just above her breath, ‘ She was inwardly trembling. Something in the lady’s voice set every nerve in her being aquiver. The feeling was so intense as to be even painful. Where, and under what circum- stances had she heard it before? Dinner ended, and the problem still remained unsolved, though it had perplexed her mind _ every moment of thetime. She could not nelp recurring to it the instant she was alone again _ with her sister. “Did we ever meet Mrs, Atherton years ago, when we lived in Washington?” she inquired. “*No,” was the answer. ‘*She was not in the habit of visiting there.” “Of whom, then, does she remind me?” ‘*] cannot tell, I am sure. She has a look like Gerald, only he is much the bandsomer of the two. it you have never seen my husband; and it cannot be the likeness to him that im- presses you.” , ee" Of course not,” Neria replied, in a dreamy ba “T wish I knew who it could be.” The next morning an une ted visitor made her appearance. was no less a person than . Mrs. Pannen: the great-aunt to whom Edna had once or twice referred. She was a withered lit- tle woman of seventy, with keen, penetrating black eyes, and a wrinkled though not unpleas- ant face, _ Bursting unceremoniously into the chamh«r where the eas were sitting, she stopped short with a muttered ejaculation of surprise, on see- ing that Edna was not alone. _ “Sh! Whois this? My old eyes are not so z0od as they were once. Seems to me I ought to know that face, but I don’t. Edna, enlighten me. ' The young wife came forward, flushing with leasure. “‘Look again, dear aunt Faunce,”she said. “It is my long-lost sister. It is Neelie.” ‘“‘Neelie!” ejuculated the old lady; starting back as though she had been shot, - “Yes, No wonder youaresurprised. I could scarcely believe the evidence of my senses. It is like a romance. ‘I was wishing to hire a com- panion, you know, and Neelie came for the situation, She had no idea that Mrs. Atherton ‘was her own sister! How strangely affairs sometimes turn out.” _ Mrs. Faunce was staring at the girl with an odd twinkle in her bright, black eyes. “(Ts it true?” she uttered. ‘Are you Neelie Thornton?” _ “Yes, madam.” “T begin to believe it. But what possessed you to run away?” . “{ would rather not talk about it, if you lease,” Neria answered, a pathetic little auiver an her voice, ‘‘If I did wrong, I have peen su:- feiently punished.” , { __A MAN'S SIN. ‘I’m glad you got your deserts, But where _ Neria turned her face aside without reply- ing. © on me ‘* My poor sister has a very sad story to tell,” Edna interposed. ‘*You must be very gentle with her, aunt Faunce.” “Gentle? Fiddlesticks! she deserves—no better, no worse. fixing her gaze on the trembling girl, ‘‘:you did not find it so pleasant as you imagined Sighting the world alone?” ‘‘No, madam.” “Humph! Tell me all about it.” Mrs. Faunee threw herself into a chair, as- suming a listening attitude. ‘But Neria could pe speak at once, she was so choked with emo- ion. **Go on,” said the old lady, impatiently. ‘I never like to be kept ie ‘* Let me tell her,” said Edna, gently drawing her sister aside. ‘‘ You are not equal to the task. I know the outlines of the story, and you can add the details some other time.’ In a few touching words Edna related the ro- mance of the poor wrecked life that had. been blighted in its early springtime. Mrs, Faunce listened silently till the end. Her eyes flashed, and she drew a deep, hoarse breath more than once, before the recital was over. “ Bless me!” she cried, at last, ‘ What an ie eg for a chit of a girl like you!” hen, brushing one bony hand across her eyes, she added, in a more determined tone: “Dreadful! Inever heard anything like it. So that scamp married you, or pretended he did, then Ho away and left you to shift for yourself? I could shake the villain! But we are nct done with him yet. You have some one I shall treat her as So,” again to back eat now, poor child! We'll hunt him down! Pil pe every lawyer in New York ‘on his track. The wretch s be punished, I promise you, for what he has made you suffer.” Neria’s beautiful face grew white with an- ish. ‘“‘T have no desire for vengeance ” she said. “What comfort could it bring me? All I ask is the privilege of passing the remnant of my days in peace and retirement.” “The marriage must be acknowledged; you owe that to your friends,” snapped Mrs, Faunce. “In spite of the scamp’s assertions, I have no doubt but it is binding upon you both—” “No, no,” interrupted the girl, in a beart- broken voice, ‘Do not raise any false hopes in my heart. I have faced the bitter truth so lon that Iam learning to bear it. Another disap- pointment might kill me. The burden of shame and misery must be borne to the bitter end.” “The validity of the marriage shall be tested, at allevents. Have you a certificate?” “T had one. But he—Lawrence—took it away.” Mrs. Faunce trembled with indignation. ° “T am not surprised,” she cried. ‘The wretch was too cunning to leave any proof be- hind. What you say only confirms me in the opinion that the marriageis valid. What would he want of that bit of paper unless it could be used against him? No, you are the villain’s lawful wife, and he knows it.” Neria put her hand to her head—everythin seerzed to be whirling around her. What if i should be true? What if the dreadful dis- grace that had clouded her life should be swept pity © : ‘**Oh God, what a burden would be lifted from my aching heart!” she thought. ‘‘Leave me to manage this business for ou,” Mrs. Faunce resumed, a red spot burn- ing in either cheek. ‘‘I know how to deal with cowards and miscreants. Justice shall be done. All I requirois a few names and dates, and a description of the place where the cere- mony was performed. I shall consult with m confidential lawyer before I sleep. We will rove the marriage valid, then shake our fists in the young man’sface. Hemay go his own way afterward, and we will go ours.” “OF course my sister could never be friends with him again, under any circumstances,” Edna said, rather bar pict 6 : ‘*T would disown her if she ever spoke a civil word to him,” snapped the elder lady. Poor Neria was suffering intensely. Ve much against her wishes she gave the items of information Mrs. Faunce required. ; Ah, how little did either of the three dream what a terrible trial awaited them in the near future! ' Fora long time afterward Mrs. Faunce sat without speaking. She was evidently revoly- ing some problem in her mind. The girl’s sad history anu curiorn sicuativ— uvu toucned her i Tha ed heart, and she was not one whose sympathies were ever enlisted in vain. ’ ‘“‘ Edna,” she said, abruptly, turning to Mrs. Atherton, “I have something to propose. You are married to a rich husband who loves you devotedly. No wish of your heart need remain ungratified. Is it not so?” , Yes,” the young wife answered, opening her beautiful eyes wide with surpri ‘You are sufficiently rich in ise. : t this world’s oe taking anything I may have to ve ** Certainly.” “* Well, poor Neria has nothing. She is lit- erally a beggar. A sad strait for a Thornton to be in, but the truth may be told without dis- e. Now I am coming to the point at issue. have already acknowledged you as my heir- ess. How would it please: you to step down and out of the position that your sister may oc- cupy itin your stead?” moment’s silence followed the question, Edna was not a selfish person, however, and she said — i bewt “I should like it above all things, aunt Faunce. My sister needs your money, and I do not. By all means make her your heiress. I hope you will.” 4 Aa eria n to remonstrate, but the old lady refused to listen. “‘The matter is settled,” she said, in a tone of decision. ‘We understand our mutual -posi- . tions without further words. I shall remem- ber you handsomely in my will, Edna, but'the bulk of my fortune will go to this homeless. and friendless child. Hereafter she shall be as a daughter to me.” Mrs. Faunce Inid her hand caressingly on Neria’s bowed head, tears filling her stern old eyes. ‘“*I trust we shall learn to love each very dearly,” she added. “I know Remanters you if you will only let me,” CHAPTER Xy. THE LULL BEFORE THE TEMPEST, Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look Into happiness through another man’s eyes! —SHAKESPEARE, NERIA could scarcely realize the fact of the change in ber circumstances. It seemed like a dream. Could it be possible that she who had = z enn npg Ben 84 A few hours be- ore, had sudden n given a home an - sition in the world’ 9 a aS? Nearly all her thoughts, however, centered upon the one question of the validity of the eae relat as cP pen ormed a year before in one of the e, out-of-the- ete of New eas ; one rs. Faunce’s decisive' words had restored hope to her despondent heart. Might solbe ible, after all, that Lawrence had domawret 9 and she was his lawful wife in spite of his cruel denial? i ‘‘ Heaven grant it,” she thought. “ What are wealth and influential friends worth to mé with- out my own self-respect and peace of mind? [| cannot hope for happiness until this cloud has been lifted from my heart.” Going down-stairs the next morning, after 4 sleepless night, she found Edna poring over an open letter. It had justcome in by the morning’s st. The young wife’s cheeks were like roses, and her eyes shone with subdued happiness.’ news,” she said, looking up with a smile as Neria entered. ‘“{ have a letter from my husband. The business that called him aint mgd is nearly completed, He is coming ‘* Very soon?” “‘He will be here in a week at the latest. I am almost wild with joy. Gerald is so brave, so noble, so handsome! It would be impossible not to love him. Sometimes I wonder why it is that God has blessed me with such supreme happiness while you—” he stopped short; the contrast that Neria’s saddened life presented was too vivid. . ‘‘ Never mind,” she added, hastily, kissing her sister’s pale cheek. ‘Gerald will be a good, true friend to you. Take courage. He is so enerous and so wise. He will know exactly e right course to pursue to redress your wrongs. Iam very glad he iscoming. T have implicit confidence in his judgment.” ‘** Have you written to tell him I am here?” ‘Not yet; and now it is too late, He has, okt set out already on the return voyage. omatter. It will be a pleasant surprise for him when he arrives.” 7 pvt course he knows that you have a sis- r , \
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™ ™ et 8urp Edna’s bricht face saddened a little, No,” sae replied. ‘He isa proud man, and has peculiar notions of propriety. I could never quite bring myself to teil him the story of your flitting. It was not until recently that Mrs, Atherton knew anything of it. She heard some sort of rumors abroad, and I had to tell her the truth.” Neria ways brought misery and disgrace upon her friends? Rm at Mr. Atherton may not be pleased,” she fal- ered ““Itwill be a little shock, just at first... But ig So generous and good he cannes be angry ntou seem to love bim very dearly,” said Nat with another involuntary sigh. He has written me such a besutiful FP eg always does, for that matter. lm cal ted to let you read it—just to see what reasor I have for lavishing such supreme affection on him.” She stretched out her jeweled hand with the eet, but before Neria could take it, drew it witha vivid blush. _ had betier keep it to myself, after all. It is so-much like a love-letter you might be tempted to laugh.” Neria félt oo heart beat with a sudden thrill. Why did the handwriting, at the dis- tance she saw it, present am appearance so pain- fully familiar? Fortunately the elder Mrs, Atherton entered at this instant.. The three repaired to the breaktfast-room together, and the subject. of the letter was not renewed: Later in the day, Edna ordered the carriage. Sc much shopping: must necessarily be done to <2 Neria for her changed position, it was deemed ‘best to begin at once, They had gone the rounds of the leading shops, and purchased any amount. of costly silks and laces--whatever Edna admired, for eria scarcely felt or expressed a wish in the matter, What were fine raiment and costly a to her with her aching heart, and the dreadful interests she had at stake? But for the fear or displeasing ber sister she would have dis everything of the sort. T At last their faces were turned toward home. oe was but. one more call to make—at a ashionable dressmaker’s where Edna had some vrders tc leave. While this was being done, Neria remained outside, sitting in the carriage. She was, gazing listlessly down the street whe some rad awed fr = the other Soe : ai as. Gilbert Brandon. eria’s pu throbbed deliriously as she watched him ap- proach. . Gladly would she have. avoided a Meeting, but there was nc pretext for so doing. is pa e, handsome face wore an expression of nen as he noticed her changed appear- “th ‘thought I recognized you,” he said, — yr ‘and could not go by without spea ou are iooking better and happier than ian i saw you last. Bhe la: aid her hand in his outstretched paim, I have strange news to impart, Mr. Bran- cone ene that will surprise you very ‘ae it concern your—your—” - t. concerns my friends, those from whom I mie been so long separated,” she hastily inter- rupted. \*Thave founa my sister.” Ph at is 00d news indeed,” God's providence must have been guidin al. my Ways,” she resumed, ‘J ought to fee very grateful. The Mrs. Atherton 1 went to serve asa hired companion proved to be my sister Edna. It was a great surpr I had A idea she was married, hereon New Yor Briefly she related what had occurre Brandon listened with eager interest, ie ene no abeniph to conceal his pleasure that Neria had found two such protectorsas Mrs, Atherton. and Mrs, Faunce “J have pondered deeply your sad story since you went away,” he said, in a low voice, ‘‘and the desire to be of service to you has beer, very strong in my beart. But for this acci- dental meeting I should have sought you out, Your wrongs. should be redressed. i might be able to do something—” He paused, looking at her with wisttul per- plexity, The subject was a very delicate one, and sc he felti. “You are very kind,” Neria said, gently. “But there is no need to trouble you newly-found relatives will do all that is neves- “fam glad to hear it.” sighed. Why was it that she had al- T ae ss hh Pe et ee. o MAN'S SIN. ee et te 2 eS ee He held her hand a moment longer in his ars then sighingly released it. | here can never be any more happiness for me in this world,” he thought, ‘‘ but the fair name of this poor wronged ehild must be cleared, ber future assured. Ab. how willin ingly would I spend and be spent in her service. Circumstances forbade this, however, now that other friends had been raised up to her. He had scarcely gone when Edna came down the steps. Neria noticed with a sudden pang how tired and haggard her sister looked spot ot hectic burned in either cheek, her eyes were feverishly bright, and she held one hand to her side, panting slightly, while reranuing her seat in the carriage. ‘* Are you ill?” Neria inquired. - ih Only a little. tired,” eas the answer. ‘‘I am not so strong as I was once. The least thing upsets me,” ‘You should call in medical advice.” ‘There is no necessity. But for the my side and chest, and the cough I should be perfectly well,” ’ Neria gave a frightened start. “Do pm have a cough? Why did you not speak of it before?” ‘‘Ttonly troubles me at night. Don’t look so terror stricken, dear. ! have no ailment worth minding.” ° Edna laughed carelessly as she spoke. Neria could not get. over the shock of her. changed looks and of the revelation that had been made, however. She thought of nothing else during the homeward drive, . ‘‘ My mother died of consumption,” she said to herself. ‘* How terrible it would be for Edna tc goin the same beh Sk She mentally resolved to consult wita Mrs. Faunce at once, and see what could be done to persuade her sister to callin a physician. Sbe dared not even wait until, Mr. Atherton. should arrive. Edna’s failing health had been notice- able-from the first, but it had never, struck her so forcibly before. Nearly a week went b before Mrs, Faunce reappeared, however. The sisters were sitting alone, one morning. when she suddenly burst into the room in her characteristic way. ‘TL bring good news at last,” she cried, run: ning up to Neria, and bi meng her on the fore- head, ‘*Thatis what [have been waiting for. A letter came last night from the agent my lawyer sent to New Orleans. He is events investigating the matter of the marriage. He found the chapel easily enough, and now he has stumbled upon | tho very man who performed the pomemener-o! She paused, for Neria haa fallen back in the chair, pale ana faint in in ave, I 4 3 OB, ” gasped the wretched girl. ‘‘ Teil me all “Then you must try to bear it a little better. It is a sad case, child, but that wretch will get the worst of it. His intentions were bad enough, the villain! but God was on your side, as He al- ways is with the oppressed. The marriage—” “ Is it valid?’ almost shrieked Neria, pressing her hands upon her heart. “As much so as. the laws of the land can make it,” Mrs. Faunce answered, serene her ie triumphant] ys r girl sat as if stunned, br me how that could be,” she faintly ar- ticurated at last. ‘Tt appears that the scamp, Gordon, resorted to a ruse that other wretches like him have used | in similar cases. He hired a reckless devii to personate the priest. The iool proved a trifle less vile than his employer, bowever. His heart misgave him before the hour appointed for the ceremony arrived, and—-”’ “What did he do?” ‘Called in a bona fide priest at the last mo- ment, and a legal marriage was performed!” ‘* Thank God!” Neria’s heart beat almost audibly for a few moments. She was a wife—there was no longer any reason to blush, or hide her head in shame: Ah, what blessed relief the knowledge brought her! Lawrence might refuse te own her—that did not matter so much. She scarcely thought ov it. It was enough that she coula once more look honest people in the face, The humilia- tion of her position was what was killing her, “There is but little more to tell,” Mrs. Faunce resumed, ‘‘ Nothing can be more certain than that a valid marriage was solemnized. Youare the lawful wite of that unworthy scamp. The fact must be publisbed to the world, my deur, tnen we will procure a divorce as quickly as possible. But enough of that. What I set out to tell you was that Lawrence Gordon did not marry you under his true name.” em eed oe De a ce 28st See | | : ee Neria sat speechless, but her eyes were fastened on Mrs, Faunce’s face, in a took that demanded everything. ‘““My agent did not discover his true name,” the old ay continued ; ‘* but,he is ou the track, and hopes to do so in the course.of a day or two.” Still Neria uttered no word in response, The wer, of speech seemed suddenly denied her. Bhe wanted to be alone—to gain time, to realize what the revelation she had heard meant to ber. Silently motioning her sister and Mrs. Faunce to-leave the room, she buried her iace. in her hands, and sat thus for hours, Her mind could scarcely grasp tbe change in her position., It seemed incredible that a glim- mer of light had pierced this utter darkness, She felt wild, almost delirious with joy and re- Kt length the door opened, and Edna entered hastily. She brought ina telegraphic dispatch that had just been received. “T, too, have heard blessed news,” she cried, excitedly. “The steamer is already in the harbor. Gerald, my husband, will be with moe in.an hour,” CHAPTER XVI. THE STOKM BURSTS, With wild surprise, As if to marble struck devoid of sense, A stupid moment motionless she stood. —THomson, y minutes had ever seemed so long to due therton as those following ‘the receipt of the dispatch announcing ‘the coming of her husband. She could not remain quiet any- where for two consecutive minutes. Almost teverishly excited, she went flitting about ‘the house, giving delicate touches here and there, brightening the rooms with flowers and vines, and arranging everything just as Gerald de- lighted to see things. ‘Itis the only way i have to express m my love, or the happiness I feel at his return,” she ~ thought. ‘Dear, dear Gerald: 1 could rot possibly do too much for him,” Presently she went up- stairs to dress. Twenty minutes more,and the hour would be over. Her husband would be there, holding her in his arms. | She attired herself in a cream-colored silk, placing white rosebuds and hetiotro; blossoms in ‘her hair. It was:# costume that Gerald greatly admired and liked to see her wear, : ‘He sball find I have lost none of the beauty he used'to praise,” she saia to herself, forgetting for the time every achw and pain. ° health and good looks must be ee is dear sake. Whatever the rest of the world may find me, I would always look beautiful to his eyes.’ And inexpressibly lovely she did appear, a soft color glowing in her cheeks, and her eyes shining with the happy light of love and joyous: anticipation. When all was in readiness, she reéntered Ne- ria’s chamber for a few mer cane oe “Don’t think me selfish for manifesting my happiness. so. openly,” she murmured, taro erie her arms about Neria’s neck. “My he. rt is singing for joy. I could not keep it to myself if I tried.” ‘‘ Why should you?” Neria gently answered. ‘Do not let my troubles sadden this blissful bolanss Forget them.’ 1 wili rejoice with yor. if can.’ Edna breathed a half-repressed sigh. ** You will love Gerald, too, wher vou know bim. Iam glad for your sake, as well as mine, that he is coming home just now. You reed just such a protector as he will be.” ‘ Don’t tell him my story at once,” Neria said, with asudden shudder. ‘*The first hours of bis coming home must not be saddened with it. To-morrow will do as well.” “Oh yes,” Edna answered, in », soothing tone. “I wili only say to him that my dar ling sister Neelic has returned. Of course he will be very much surprised, but 1 can pus him oft with a f»w words of explanation. re She started up and began to walk nervously backward and forward in the room. **Of course I must have him all to myseif for a little while. Hehas been away so long! It is only a few weeks to be sure, bnt it seems like as many years. i never knew how my life was bound up in him until he went away. Exist- ence has seemed joyless enougn since then. { have counted the minutes, © will huve many things to say to each other just at first. You can wait here, Neelie, until] sena for you. It may be some time—” She broke off abruptly, and pressed wet band
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rN ~*~. ; - more vivid] cia ~~ “r vs ‘ elas Re, ty : ae ae 7. pe # e ree Com . =) 7 fens away as -. Edna’s waist. _ looker-on remembered t was flushed with happiness now, but the elo- quent eyes had. gazed into ber own a thousand aR bane ee - é ys rigid, her eyes were straine Fe 44 upon her heart, At that moment: there. came the sound of carriage-wheels on the drive be- low. — ‘He is here!” she exclaimed, growing almost faint with joy and excitement. A quick, impatient ring came a‘ the bell: | Neria arose from ber chair, took a single step toward the window, but tell back again with- out looking out. ‘““Whatdoes it matter to me?” she thought, amazed at the strange fluttering of her heart. “J bave no cause to feel impatient for Mr: Atherton’s appearance.” © pita _ Edna had already left\the room. Neria heard her fleet step on the stairs, tho bolts of the door shot back, then a suppressed cry of rapture, That was all, for she ran into her .dressing-room, apd shut herself in. thought of her sister’s happiness turned ber sick, she scarcely knew why, unless it brought before her mind herown meg 38 lot... She felt an irresistibie desire to get as far e. . More than an hour wore on. At last some one knocked for admittance. It was Edna’s madd. rs y master and mistress are im the drawing- room,” the girl said... ‘‘ Mrs.. Atherton has sent for you. She would like to introduce you to ber husband.” ; he -_ Neria arose and began hastily to arrange her disordered dress. . ; “Tell my sister that I will come down at once,” she said. . She felt more ‘unnerved than ever now that * the moment had come, At the drawing-room door, which stood slightly ajar, she paused a “moment to recover herself. Edna was speak- ng, and every word reached her ears dis- ctly. i - a fiok you will not scold me, Gerald, for never having spoken of my sister Neelie before. She left home under peculiar circumstances; ‘going outasa conmimon governess. ‘No Thorn- ton had ever before done anything of the sort. I am both proud and: sensitive, ani could ‘never bear speak of the circumstances to you—” }° rriag. ‘It is of no consequence,” came the answer, as she hesitated for an instant. ‘‘I understand your feelings, darling, and shall think no less of ou for any indiscretion of which your sister tan been guilty.” - ; At the first tone of that voice Neria started, her face grew ashy white, and ressed her hands tightly upon ber heart. reat. God! Whatdid it mean? Did her ears deceive her, or had she all at once gone mad? Panting, bewildered, sick with terror, she ‘made a desperate effort, and: finally succeeded in dragging her benumbed limbs forward a few steps so that she could see into the drawing- - room through the crevicein the half-shut door. _ Gerald Atherton stood: directly in the range of her vision, one arm lovingly encirclin Ah, how well the wretch t handsome face! It with the same expression of love and ardor they wore for another. ‘My ! Lawrence Gordon!” The stiffening lips.could scarcely frame the words. They were uttered in so low a tone that the two within the room, wholly absorbed in each other, heard no sound, Neria comprehended all at once. He who ‘had won her love under a false name, and nearly broken her heart by his infamous treat- ment, was Gerald Atzerton, the husband of her own sister! ; - The discovery almost killed her. Her face and for a w seconds her heart ceased to®beat. The arting pang of death itself could not have hurt her more. ft was dreadful! She never knew bow she succeeded in drag- ging herself back tober chamber. She felt be- - wildered, and more than half-suffocated. ‘There was @ ringing in ber ears, and everythin _ scemed to be whirling around her, ‘* Be merci- ful, oh God, and let me die,” was the only _ prayer of her tortured beart. Edna, waiting below for her sister to appear, rew impatient at last and went in search of er. She wasanxious that Gerald should meet her at ouce, feeling assured that Neria’s J ome beautiful face would plead her cause and win his sy mpatby as nothing else could. _ Just as her foot touehed the stair, she heard the sound of soraething falling ove:head, Full of anxious fore odings, she ran hastily to her , gister’s chamber. The sight that met her startled gaze brought a gx The valid A MAN'S SIN. a shriek of terrorto her lipsy. -Extended on-the | pectthe truth when Edna had told-him tbe 6 'r- a, la~ poor Neria, pallid and still, in a:death- CHAPTER: XVII; A WOMAN'S DESPAIR, Oh, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune’s book} —SHAKESPEARE, : : EDNA raised no alarm. Some feeling for which she would have been unable to account, made h r solicitous to conceal from everybody the fact of her sister’s sudden illness. “Liock- ing the door, she-succeeded, with some: diffi- culty, in dragging Neria to the sofa, then hasti- ly applied such restoratives as were at hand. Some moments elapsed before the wretched girl opened her eyes. She sat up, and after lookin about the room in a bewildered way, presse her hands to her temples. 13 ol ‘* Tt was no dream,” she said, Edna drew near, trembling and unnerved. ; ae the matter?) Why did you faint?” she uired, f ; eria pushed away her clinging hands'with a shudder, |. ' “IT cannot tell you,” she answered. ‘I ean not. ao mewn readful has happened to me. Go-away fora little while. Give me time to think it over. Dogo. I wish to be left quite by myself.” 63, Edna looked puzzled and troubled, but it would have been cruel to refuse compliance with that urgent request. ; ‘Gerald is ‘waiting for us in the room below,” _ cong ag atlength. ‘What shall I say—to iosthabb.> > The poor girl made no’ response. The men- |: tion of that name took away the last remnant of her strength. Pointing to the door, she turned her face to the wall. ‘*She looks half-crazed, like one who has re- ceived a sudden shock,” Edna thought, as she went reluctantly away. \‘‘ That cannot be pos- sible; however, I wish she would let me re- main to comfort ber.” : Left alone, Neria tried to think calmly of the discovery she had made. She felt numb and bewildered, like one suddénly awakened from a frightful dream. The reality seemed too hor- rible for belief. The man she had loved wus under that very roof, the husband of her own sister! Surely fate had doneitsworst. No bit- terer blow than this could ever reach her. ‘*Lost, lost to me, forever,” she murmured, ‘* Farewell, hope—farewell, happiness! This is the end.” Suddenly she streck her hand against her forehead. Wasitthe end? The factsconnected with her unfortunate marriage had been inves- tigated! .The lawyer’s agent had pronounced it id. .Aman of his profession would not be led into error.’ By every right, legal .and di- vine, Gerald Atherton was her busband, and not E as such, i The oe sent the blood coursing through her veins like fire for an instant, Then her bet- ter nature regained its ascendancy, ; “No, no, no!” she moaned. ‘I can do noth- ing so cruel, Edna loves him even better than I did before the knowledge of his unworthiness came home tome. Her whole soul is bound t inhim. She must not be made to suffer as [ have done.” 25 The minutes wore on. It was one of those terrible crises that come sometimes—not often— in the lives of mortals. No matter what step she took next—it would tell for time and eter- nity. What was it her duty to do? Over and over again she rehearsed all the cir- cumstances of the case. If the lawyer’s agent had told the truth, she was Gerald’s lawful wife; be could neither deny nor discard her. She could take her place in theworld as Mrs. Atherton, without a blot upon her name. But—Edna! : It was the thought of her sister that unnerved her. Edna bad married this man in perfect good faith, never dreaming that any question could arise as to the validity of the ceremony. ‘She is not strong—it would prove her death- blow if the truth were to be suddenly revealed to her,” Neria thought. ‘‘ I cannot sacrifice my own sister—I cannot! She must never, never know.” } But how was the dreadful secret to be kept? She could think of one way, and only one—to leave the house at once, before Gerald had seen her, and to-avoid ever meeting him face to face, Even then he would be almost certain to sus- ————d rowful facts of her history. He could not help knowing that she was speaking of the very pir- son he himself had basely deserted. ‘Ne matter,” Neria thought, ‘so long as. he keeps the fact to bimself—anil he would be ashamed and afraid todisclose it. Heevidently believes in the validity of the last marriage— not the first. Ishall take care that‘he is never undeceived.” At that very moment Ednaand Gerald Ather- ton were discussing her in the room below. “JT regret exceedingly that your ‘sister’is in- di ,” the young man said. ‘‘It would be such a pleasure to meet her. Is she as beauti- ful as you, darling?” , “‘Oh, far more beautiful,” Edna: answered, with enthusiasm. ‘* When we lived in Wash- ington,.she was acknowledged to be the hand-- somest lady there. Everybody admires her.??:: “{ do not think she can surpass my lovely i) wife,” he said, laughingly. ‘* Wait until you have seen her.” “ What did you call hername?” «_ “* Neelie,” Edna answered, using ‘the pet ap- | pellation quite unconsciously. Not the Jeast suspicion of the truth dawned upon Gerald’s mind. Hasiel OF 2 “There is quite aromance connected withher _ history, I think you said?” Z “Yes, dear. But lam not ready to tell it to. you yet.” . Shortly afterward, she again made her way to the chamber above, hoping to find Neria. quite recovered. A disappointment awaited her. The wretched girl was’ still: reclining on the sofa, looking very languid and weak, though her face was flushed, and her eyes glittered with. ‘fever t ‘*T hope you are not to be really ill,” Edna md. oe she bent a hum * Neria gaveagaspofdismay. “Ti? Oh, no! I can’t-—L won't be HL 15 would never do.” t ; ‘*Gerald and I have been speaking of you,” Edna resumed; after a brief pause. © “Of me? Heavens! what have you told him?” “Nothing, dear, It was no time to enter into explanations. But he is very desirous of seeing you, though it should only for a moment. ay I bring him up here, since you are unable to go down?” eria started to her feet, fairly panting with ‘terror. Os , sis no! It must not be. I will not hear o it. “Of course you must have your own way,” Edna said, wondering at the refusal, and ber strange excitement. ‘‘ But you and’Gerald are certain to be good friends, You will find him an agreeable compsnion. I am very proud of my husband, and ieel impatient to introduce him to you.’ Neria drew a deep breath when her sister had left the room. “This must not go on much longer,” she thought. ‘1 am-not.able to en- i dha’s! All she had todo was to claim him | dure it. I must go from here as quickly as pos- sible,” ; Her hat and shawl hung in the little dressing- room near by. She attempted to cross the floor to procure them, but was compelled to sink into. a chair from sheer exhaustion, : ‘Heaven help mie,” moaned the poor soul. ‘‘Tam weaker than I thought,” Night soon fell, She welcomed it gladly, It would so much easier to slip away in the darkness. All that she lacked was the strength to go. Ringing the bell, at length, she said to the maid who answered the summens: “Bring me a glass of wine. 1’ am ill, and — es ae vert = ““ You dolook bad, miss,” said the girl.“ I tell my mistress?” : ; tastes ‘“Say nothing to any one, It is not neces- hen the stimulant came, Neria drained it to the dregs. The wine gave her what she needed, a fictitious strength; but is wou d not last long. Hastily dressing herself in traveling attire, she stole forth without even tarrying to gather up a single trinket. he gas was turned low in the hall—she stole down-stairs with a throbbing heart. The low murmur of a voice thatshe remembered only too well came from the drawing-room, Gerald and Edna were there.. Neria scarcely breathed as she flitted past. The thought of discovery turned her faint and sick. She would have died rather than have had him encounter her then and there. : Before she could gain the outer door, foot steps approached from the drawing-room. He was Saraing! Neria had barely time to slip _ into @ little curtained recess. Gereld camo ry
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slowly forward, pausing so near she might have stretched out ber hand and touched him. ‘“Neelie! What an odd name,” she heard him mutter, uneasily. ‘“ How strange that it should remind me of another! I must be get- ting nervousall at once. My poor, foolish Ne- rial What has become of the child, I wonder? Months have elapsed since she disappeared so suddenly, and the agent I hired to hunt her up has not been able to find the least clew to her tate. She may be dead, ere this.” He shuddered and thrilled all over at the thought, though Neria did not see it. Bad as the villain was, he realized that, if his victim were really dead, he wasa murderer. Hesoon passed on. Neria heard him moving about in another part of the, house. She was panting for breath, and her forehead was cov- ered with heavy drops. Afraid to linger an- other instant, she madea sudden dash for the hall door, gained it, and almost before ange | the extent of the effort made, she felt the col outer air strike across her face. Her plans were already formed. Sah ni on breathlessly until she gained a street where carriages were passing and repassing, Neria hailed an empty cab, and drove at once to the residence of Mrs. Faunce. yh t was a handsome house in a quiet side/ stréet. The servant who lét her in stared a lit- tle, but she pushed hastily past, afraid that her strength might suddenly give way. “Take me to my aunt,” she said. ‘Don’t stop for any announcement. Let us go at ance.’ ' The startled girl led the way up-stairs, and pointed to a closed_door. “My mistress is in there,” she said. “ You can enter.” . Netia went swiftly into the room. A tiny fire smoldered in the grate, and Mrs. Faunce sat in an easy-chair beside it. A low ejacuila- tion of, surprise fell from her lips as she recog- nized the intruder. . , Ad “Why, Neria, child; is it you? What brings you here at this hour of the night?” Then, catching sight of the girl’s haggard face, she rose abruptly, and held out her arms. “Something dreadful has happened to’ you, I sear What is it?” eria threw herself upon that motherly bosom, bursting into a perfect paroxysm of weeping. al Oday “Don't ask me,” she panted, ‘fT have no courage to fell you what I suffer. Take me in —give me shelter, J have no one now in all the -wide world save you.” Mrs. Faunce dréw the sobbing gir? close to her heart, Thouvh astonished beyond measure, she forbore to question further. “You have come to the right “place, dear,” ‘was all that she said. n \ , 3 ‘CHAPTER XVIII. SELF-SACRIFIOH, It Is not, nor it cannot come to grod? But break my heart; for I must hoid my tongue: —SHAKESPEARE, THE night dragged its slow length along, but even when the next morning broke, Neria had not roused herself ‘sufficiently-‘to: offer any ex- planation. Shé lay passive and still, with her eyes closed, and seemed only half to breathe. “At ten o’clock a quick, impatient ring came at the bell. Neria started up with a sbudder. “Tt is Bina,” sie exclaimed, © ‘* Don’t let her come here, Lhaye no wish to see her again.” Mrs. Faunce looked cnriously at the agitated girl. She céuld not even conjecture what had come between the sisters that Neria should shr nk like this froara possible meeting. “Calm yourself,” she said. ‘* You shall see no one that you wish to have kept away.” ‘A-ervant entered with a message, “Some one to ho you, madam,” "be said, addres-ing Mrs. Faunce. “ He told me to say thathe came in reference to that New Orleans business—” Neria understood, and started up eagerly. New revelations had, perhaps, come ito Jignt. Tf her secret was to be kept, the time had come for action. ‘* Aunt Faunce, let me see this man,” she im- lored. “ican conjecture wuy he is bere, It isa matter that concerns me More than any- body else inte world. Suffer me to go down alone and hear what your agent bas to say.” Mrs. Faunce stared’ Was the girl taking lee ve of her Senses? eee “You are unequal to such an interview, my dear,” she objected. : ~ “Tam stronger than you think.’ Donoteross mein this. There ismore at stake tuan you imagine, Forgive me for keeping anything back, Itis ungrateful when you have been 50 ~~ ¢ ” A. MAitS. SIN. kind, so helpful. But there is no other way. ‘See what Isuffer! It is almost a matter of life or death with me. You have not the heart to refuse. I am going, and alone! It must be ? : | She had almost reached the door by this time. Mrs. Faunce hesitated, but only for an instant. She could not help being aware that the man had brought information that Neria wished to suppress. ' **Be it as you will,” she said, breathing a | heavy sigh. ‘*‘God knows I have only your | best interests at‘beart.” © cuss with her. The servant should have made a “Yes,” he replied, looking at her with won- dering eyes. ‘I know everything.” ““Sodo I,” Neria said, quite calmly. ‘‘ Hea- ven has taken its own way to reveal the, truth tome. It is not necessary for,you'to make any disclosures.” ¢ “Something is due. my. em- ‘you are standing very much in your own]. | reached the drawing-room door. A man came | quickly forward as she entered. '~ “Tt was Mrs, Faunce for whom I asked,” he said, an expression of surprise flitting over his face. ‘*T have a little matter of business to dis- “You can speak freely,” Neria replied. “This affair concerns me more than meynody else. I am here with my greataunt’s knowl sudden’ light seemed to break) upon. the woefully ceceived?” he stammered. “T am Mrs. Lawrence Gordon.” ,.She/drew |: her hand across ‘her forehead, then went on ra- pidly, as though fearful her strength might Me. please.. I have only to exact a promise rom you. Of course you are bere because you succeeded in the mission to’ New Orleans, and added, in a low; impressive toue: . “Now for the promise to. which I referred. The secret you have discovered: must remain ton are one andthe same! Swear to a a a by a r lips! Nothing less will satisfy me. Swear. ru «She will respect my wishes in tois whose name nothing could ever induce me to ear, but marvel atithe girl’s determination to give: ly. ‘‘But—forgive me for saying so, wadam— She could not have held. out much longer. ‘*T have weighed the matter well, and this is the only course I could, bring myself to pursue.” Neria had.regained her self-control when she | the fact known.” By edge and consent.” man’s mind. vf “You are not the poor lady who;has.been so give way: © ; , ‘* We will make this interview a brief. one, if have learned the true name and position of the man I married in that city?” So Then, dropping her hand upon’ bis. arm, she forever Jocked within yourown breast. .lwould rather die than have Mrs, Faunce or the world know that Lawrence Gordon and Gerald Ather- must—that the fact shall never be divul you it ; She leaned forward, still clasping his arm,” and almost kneeling at his feet... “Swear it,” she repeated, He hesitated. ployer—” , “ Mrs. Faunce is good and kind,” Neriainter- matter, It was solely for my sake that. you weresent on this mission at all, No one basa right to deny me the privilege of suppressing the facts that bave come to, light,.aud they must be suppressed. I freely relinquish what- ever claim the law may give me upon a wretch b bin ‘Them n appeared more astonished thamever. Unaware of the relationship existing between Neria and the second,Mrs, Atherton, he could up rights that meant so much to her... as ‘Of course Lmust yield,” be said, reluctant- we . Neria rose with a gesture of utter weariness. She felt, as though a. great load had_been | lifted from ber heart when be was gone, _E na, her beautiful, proud sister, must be saved at all, hazards, Sheshould never know the horrible’ truth—that it was: her-life upon which this crushing load of shame and sorrow had fallen, ‘“*It does not. matter what happens to me,” she thought, . ‘‘I. will leave New_York, and bide away from everybody. If Edna is onl spared all k. owledge of this disgrace I will as nothing for myself.’ : She did not stop-to inquire whether it would, be right,toJeave ber sister in isporance of the truth, , Taat question. diinot en, er into} er cal. eulations.. She only realized that ib would) kill Edua, in her present state of health,ioknow bow terribly she-had been deceived, and all mi- hor considerations were submerged in the more important one ef protecting the life and hap- piness of. one so dear to her, eit * As eS Neria, with a shudder. in response. /pleaded Mrs, Atherton. herself intv 4 Chair, as faraway f ‘and scarcely réplyitig 10 } is tender sallies. self, who, who'ly unconscious of what waS com a The opening of the door aroused her from th reverie into which she had fallen, Mrs. Faunce came forward, looking troubled and anxious, and drew up a chair beside her. a ‘‘T expect you to tell me everything, child,” said theold woman, ‘‘lam your best friend— — itis to me you must look for whatever belp you | receive. You shall not look in vain. But there must be no balf-confidences between us.” She was surprised to see Neria draw back suddenly and cover ber face. ‘‘How can I tell you—how can I?” sobbed the wretched girl. .‘‘No, you must bear with me as patiently as you can, Something very unexpected has happened. I cannot explain— itis impossible; but, unless you wish tosee me more unbappy than I am already, you must give me my own way in this matter. I no longer. bave the least desire to force my claims upon the man I married, or compel bim to ac- knowledge meas his wife. Let us both try to’ forget that dreadful episode in my life.” ‘And allow that villain to go unpunished?” gasped Mrs. Faunce. ‘Yes. Inever wish to seé him again,” said _ a) Ww ‘‘He had succeeded in bis mission. alli can tell you. Suffer me to keep my littlo secret, dear aunt Faunce. Were it not wisest and best, I should never dream of concealing | hat did my agent have to say to you?” — hat is anything, Only trust, me,” we, , Unable to withstand such pleading, Mrs. Faunce.could ouly sit and glare half-fiereely av the young girl. “This is incomprehe nsible,” she exclaimed. ‘“At the very moment when ;the way is paved to. hayeample justice done, you turn outand | forbid..me to take another step! . Well, T must submit until you come to your senses again, I. suppose. I doit véry reluctantly, however.” | ‘ An hour or, two later, a close gatalege sp Tod She up, to the door, Neria hastened to thé window * and looked ouf. She saw her sister alight, lean- ing lovingly upon Gerald’s.arm, Ob, bow her heart ached at the sight! It was herrigbtful _ place—one that she might claim atanymoment ~ she.falt so dicponed.. ss a ee _ She had barely time to Jock the door before dna’s clear, sweet voico became audible inthe all. illness, strange Jooks, ant abrupt flitting in the night-time, must have had au adequate cause, But what? pe he ee Edna could fot even eanjectiré. On leaving the house she sr k wearily upon the Velveb cushions of the carrinse,; for the first time al- be most oblivious of the presetcs'of her husband, tA. i The instant they resch ad home, and fonnd \ A) thea selves alone in the pleassnt back parlor where they preferred to st, she ‘made up her wind to tell Gerald evérvthing. “Tt washehim- — itig, prepared the way for the adiéeioeura, _.** Rlo v.crave avis ot you dre, dating” he - said, “Porgiva 1iief br eayi sess, Dat y u are | troubling yourself tog much crer'y ony ticter’s + whimsical conduct in leaving the bout ec ub- - es 4
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c ) 4 - cowardly villains as this Lawrence howanet. Her strange conduct, and 160 os ruptly. I’m afraid she does not deserve the so- licitude you waste upon her.” , Edna leaned her head against his shoulder, and the tears she had vainly tried to suppress, burst forth. ; ‘Don’t say that,” she cried. ‘You do not know my darling Neelie,” ‘‘She does not appear very anxious to make my acquaintance, or she would not avoid me so persistently,” he dryly answered. © “My poor sister has sufféred much, Gerald. Few young girls could pass through what she has done, and live. pe not judge her harshly. Her whole nature has been changed. I can ly think of her in pi and love—overlooking ‘every inconsistency in her conduct.” Gerald shrugged his shoulders, Tbis trouble- some young woman who had so unexpectedly come to light, was not a person in whom he felt any considerable degree of interest, He would have preferred that sho had remained away altogether. " 4 -s he must be a little crazed,” he said, rather uely, di, “Tt aad be no marvel if she were. Never ‘was an innocent girl mofe foully wronged.” Gerald felt the blood come into his cheeks. Wronged! He was a proud man, and did not like that word spoken in connection with his wife’s sister. ; **What do you mean?” he demanded, *Let me tell you Neria’s story,” Edna said, gently. ‘“‘Then you will understand évery- thing. I would have told you before, but my sister forbade it—” ; He was not listening. The name she had epoken fell on his ears like a clap of thunder fromaclearsky. He felt stunned, bewildered. ‘* Neria!” he interrupted, in a strange; choked voice. ‘That is my sister’s realname. But she was rt fe tallied Neelie at home; I call her so $ “> ‘ ll me the story,” he panted. ‘ At once.” Edna did not observe the convulsive shudder that ran through her husband’s frame, but be- gan in a low yoice to give the outlines of Neria’s pathetic history. Before it was half-finished, Gerald had pushed her from bim almost roughly, risen to his feet, and was pacing the floor with hurried, uneven atrides, “Tam not surprised to see you so moved,” Edna paused to say, happily unconscious of the real cause of his emotion. ‘‘1 felt very mncig- nant myself. It is hard to believe that suc Gordon reall exist. How one hates and abhors such treachery !” - “ Fivisu the recital,” Gerald exclaimed, turn- ing round and glaring fiercely at his wife. ‘I ain anxious to be done with it.” His mind wandered in a wild chaos. The shock came so suddenly and unexpectedly he had almost betrayed himself. lt seemed in- credible that the beautiful young girl he had loved, won and treacherously deserted could be the sister of his own wife! Surely fate had done its worst, ‘ , “Cursed luck!” he said to himself, gnaiins histeeth. ‘How am 1 ever to extricate mysel _ from such a complication?” ¢ It was clear, however, that Edna did not suspect. He could not feel so sure of Neria, sudden eparture from the house so soon after his re- turn, seemed to indicate that she knew all. A temptation to fly—to leave the aie crossed his mind, but he instantly banished it. “No,” he muttered, doggedly, *‘T’ll stand my nd, and face the worst, whatever it may . Neria is powerless—what can she do?” Edna’s very next words ‘dispelled this latter delusion, however. “ Aunt’Faunce bas taken a deep interest in my sister,” she said, ‘‘and will do everythin inher power to right her wrongs. She has al- ready decided to adopt Neria, and leave the bulk of her large fortune to her, rather than to me, who do not need it.” " Gerald felt like breaking into a volley of curse. How surely his sins were finding him out! It was the wealth Edna expected to in- herit that had induced him to make her his wife, He needed it to prop his own falling for- tunes, : _ “The most singular part of the story remains to be told,” Edna resumed, in blissful uncon- sciousness of the full significance of her words. “You know what a resolute woman aunt Faunce is, Well, she madeup her mind at once ‘ 4 that justice should be done my poor sister, and setit an agent to New Orleans, where the mar- riage was solemnized, that the affair might be fully investigated.” Gerald clung to the back: of a chair, feeling himself turn sick with dread and apprehension. ‘‘ With what.result?’ he stammered, “ Every effort is being made to learn the true name of the wretch, for of course that of Law- rence Gordon was assumed to hide his_ real pions 2 But that is not what I set. out to tell you. It is of the marriage I wish to speak.” ‘* What of that?” he demanded, with sudden apprehension. ‘It appears that the wretch who.intended. to dective my sister with a false marriage was himself deceived. The tool he hired for his ne- farious purpose veoes to. be gifted with a conscience. A real clergyman, instead of the impostor who was expected, performed the cer- emony.” > . Gerald staggered back a step, his forehead covered with heavy:drops.. What a fearful retribution had overtaken “him! He looked so strange that Edna wasat once struck by his ex- pression. “You are ill!” she exclaimed, ‘‘ Why did you not tell meso before?” . She was hastening to his side, full. of loving solicitude, but he waved her away. A sense of his own unworthiness lay heavily upon his mind. He could not endure that she should touch him. **T don’t feel very well,” he stammered. ‘‘I had better go up stairs for awhile. We can re- sume this subject some other time.” He went out hastily, locking himself into the dressing-room above. Ab, how bitterly; at that moment, he répented of his infamous conduct! Too late. It was done, and could never be re- called. Now he had only to meet the conse quences, But what would they be? aon np vee Mh angie to — his hag position. eeling akin to despair took posses- sion of his soul. He had lost prt hing. Who could have foreseen such a terrible: complica- tion? Not: only had Mrs. Fannce’s thousands slipped through his fingers, but, if the New Or- leans marriage was valid, Edna was not his wife, but the woman he had so basely deserted. ‘“*T am ruined,” groaned the unhappy wretch, “Tf these facts come to light, I can never raise my head among honest people again.” He sat down, trying hard to see a way out of the difficulty. But no light broke upon his troubled and bewildered mind. Whichever way he turned, his path was beset with diffi- es. “J am in Neria’s power,” he thought. ‘She can crush me with a word, But will she do it?” The fact that she had thus far remained si- lent afforded but scant encouragement, Who could tell but she was nursing her wrath, and collecting her forces, to make the blow all the more terrible when it fell? : ‘*Pll go to her,” he finally resolved, ‘‘ It will be an ordeal to meet her face to face again, but I shall know what to expect, and that will be better than to endure this racking suspense.” In spite of the mental anguish he suffered, Gerald dressed himself very carefully before ing out, By this time night had fallen, His Rea thrilled, almost failing him, as he strode ast the door Jeading into Edna’s chamber. What a wreck he had made of that innocent young life! “She isnot strong—it will kill her ‘to learn the truth,” he thought. ‘* Poor Edna! .Whata pity that the blow must fall most heavily upon the innocent! Heaven knows I would shield her if possible,” It was nine o’clock when he reached Mrs. Faunce’s residence. A strange girl answered bis summons at the bell. He had laid no plans how to gain access to Neria’s presence, but in- tended to be guided by circumstances. He did not even know by what name Neria was known in that household. ‘*T wish to see the young Jady whois stop- ping here,” he said, advancing @ step on the threshold. jie “Do you mean Miss Thornton?” inquired the girl, looking at him askance. ‘*Yes, Miss Neria Thornton.” y “She is ill, and does not receive visitors, sir.” ‘‘But I must see her. It is very necessary that I should. Why do you stand in my way? Show re to her room at once,” The girl drew back a step. “It would be all my place is worth,” she stammered. ‘‘ We have positive orders. Miss Thornton is to ha denied to everybody.” Gerald studied the girl’s face attentively a “es TTS MER. moment, and saw that she would be susceptible to a bribe... . “Take this,” said hé, droppi 6 a gold piece in her reluctantly extended hand, ‘‘ You have only to indicate the door. That is all I will ask. No one can blame you for performing so trifling a service.” , Jem She glanced at the gold piece with qierering eyes. ‘Take the third door to the left,” she said, in a whisper, and ran away trembling. Gerald followed the instructions given. .Ar- rived at the door in question, he paused a mo- ment to listen. No sound came from within, and at length he ventured to raise the latch. CHAPTER XX. THE TWO WIVES. The past, would you give wip the pas’ Such as it is, pleasure andctimne togetiien? ,...., -“Roserr Brownie, Neri was alone, in the room, sitting beside the. dying fire. She looked pale and worn, and traces of. tears were on her cheeks. She had been reflecting upon the events of the past year, and her heart beat heavy with grief and appre- hension. / ' The opening of the door caused her to turn her head. She saw ber recreant husband cross: the threshold, and advance into the room. She pressed her hand to her side, and everything seemed to whirl for an instant, ‘* You!” she stammered. ‘ You!” He went straight toward her with out- stretched .bands, his features fairly convulsed with em.tion.:, The sight of that stricken crea- ture had melted. his heart, and changed his pur- pene in an instant. All the old tenderness that e thought dead, had started into sudden life 8 gain.» | & 4 phi | ters ‘My poor child,” he exclaimed, “ what has. changed youso? Am I to blame for this?” She started to her feet and drew back a step, looking at him almost wildly. - “Do not come any nearer,” she panted. “Why. did you seek me here, to add ancther pang to my wretched life? Had I not suffered enough already ?” ' .‘*Borgive me]. I. bave been a wretch, Neria. I freely acknowledge it. Do. not look upon ius with such horror in your lovely eyes. I ani anxious to make amends. Only give me the opportunity,” shade of disdain crossed her face. ‘‘ Amends !” she repeated. ‘It is too late to talk of that, ‘You bave broken my life, poi- sauna my youth, destroyed my once radiant. opes. e advanced still another step, touched by her beauty and sorrow as he had never been before. “fT wish toatone. I will do anything that is. reasonable,” he said, eagerly. ‘I came here to- night thinking to bargain with you to keep our miserable secret. Now that I bave seen you my whole purpose seems to be changed. Dic- tate whatever terms you please—I am ready to assent to them.” ” * All I ask of you is to goaway, where I may never see your face again.” *‘ Do you no longer love me, Neria?”’ ‘* Love oe wl she repeated, her eyes glitter- ing with indignation. ‘‘ How dare you ask a question like that? Love you after being de- ceived, betrayed and heartlessly cest off? But we will not speak of that. Reproaches cannot avail. You are now the husband of another. I have given you up; Heaven will help. me to endure my darkened lot. Be papas now, and leave me to my fate,” . If she had fancied that he might still be igno- rant of the validity of their marriage, his next words undeceived her. ; _ “ Why should we be separated” he said, look- ing at her intently. ‘You are my lawful wife. What is to hinder me from, claiming you as such?” bape ‘“ The vows you have breathed to. another.” “Vows that have no binding force, Kdna has no legal claim upon me. That is impossible, since you were already my wife when I mar- ried her.” 1) homie Neria panted slightly, and a feeling of faint- ness came over her. « knew all, and now, as he looked at her, she saw all the old love and adoration burning in his eyes, ‘ ““T have been told that the marriage cere- mony in which youand I took part, is legal and binding,” he resumed, ‘I did not intend it to be such at the time, but fate ruled. otherwise, and we must submit. In spite of the termble predicament in which it pl ces us, I cannot ong Pe Tamsorry. Are you, darling?” e leaned toward her with so much passion
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her brow. cap etme ee CaS NE Se in his face that Neria was terrified. A gulf seemed to yawn suddenly at her feet. ere Wasa peril that had never once entered into her calculations, She had not dreamed that Gerald still felt any lingering tenderness for her, or would wish to claim her as his wife. “Hush,” she panted, pistcig “Do not compel me to despise you more than I do al- y. : He stared at her in blank amazement. i re you refuse to acknowledge my claims?’ 0. But he was unabashed: “‘ Take a moment to Consider. I find ‘that you are dearer to m heart than I ever imagined. This meeting is like a revelation. I am ready to giveupevery- g. Everything, Neria! Say the worc, and ‘we will leave the country to-morrow morning, Rever to return.” She did not answer, nor move. “Think of the position in which you will be Placed by rejecting my offer,” he resumed. “The story of your youthful folly will certain- ly leak oat Such things cannot be long con- cealed, It would be impossible for you and I to meet each other daily as common friends. Human endurance has its limits. I shudder to think of the future that awaits us all unless you consent, It is the easiestb—the only wa out of the terrible complication in whic we have become involved. Say that you will His voice was full of tenderness. He was like & lover pleading for the one priceless boon his heart held most dear. : ; Neria put up her hand, still waving him away. ¥ Have you no shame?” she breathed. ‘Think of my poor sister, Where is your considera- tion for the innocent girl you promised to love and cherish?” A scarlet flush swept over his face. He had almost forgotten the poor wronged wife who was at that very moment anxiously awaiting dis coming in her pretty boudoir. ‘Edna shall never be tortured as I have been!” Neria exclaimed, with sudden evergy. *She loves you, unworthy as you are. For her ' sake 1 have spared you thus far, and planned and plotted to keep the secret of your identity. She would never survive the knowledge of the truth. Ge back to her, go at once! Be to her the true, loving, devoted husband she thinks you, and [ will try to forgive the bitter wrong you have done me. My innocent sister must be spared at any sacrifice.” “And you?” - “Jt waters little what becomes of me,” she cried, mis:rably. ‘*My lot. is heavy, but God will give me strength to bear it.” eS fear you are stifling the voice of your own heart,” he said, fixing his eyes on her with a strange, intense longing. — “Tam trying todo my duty; that must suf- ~ fice.” “Neria—” : She interrupted him with a gesture of impa- tience. _ “Spare me. Let this seene come to an end. it is inexpressibly painful. You and I must go separate ways. e have but one common cause—to protect my poor sister, shielding her from even the faintest breath of calumny. I think it can be done, With us both working for the same end, the suppression of the truth we can but succeed. Heaven, I am sure, will bless our efforts. If we do wrong, it is that xood may come of it.” She was quite calm now, the calmness that intense suffering sometimes gives. Gliding to the door, she held it open for him to pass out. - “ Farewell,” she said. ‘‘ Heaven grant that _ Yon and I may never meet again.” Gerald was deeply moved. Her abnegation _ of self touched all that was best and noblest in his nature. Almost involuntarily he moved toward the door, but paused on the threshold. ‘“‘) think you loved me once,” he said, “Did I?’ she uttered, passing her hand over “It may be. I scarcely know my own heart. It does not matter. All my hopés and dreams have come to utter bankruptcy.” ‘« We were very bappy together during those first months of our wedded life. Have you no desire to live that blissful time over again?” - ‘“None,” she answered, in a hollow voice, ‘It could never be. When one once wakes from a blissful dream it cannot be recalled.” She made an eager gesture for him to leave her, and sunk panting into the nearest chair, He hesitated a moment longer, looking at her With love, anguish, dread and self-reproach all _ plainly written in his face, and then slowly left ‘ _ the room and the house. i | d . te Se ee ae ee ee Se ee ee ee a ee ho ee. Cee ee Se ee ee SS } | / ‘ 4 It was midnight before he could maize up his mind to enter his own door. Late as was the hour, Edna still sat up waiting for him. He at- tempted to steal cautiously past the boudoir, but those loving ears caught and recognized his P. ‘** How late you are!” she exclaimed, throw- ing open the door ard stealing into his arms with a gentle kiss.. ‘‘Comeinhere. You must be cold and tired. Ihad a warm cup of coffee brought up for you not ten minutes ago.” He could do no less than follow her into the coquettish little room.~ It was full of light and warmth, and pretty things. Edna had drawn up an easy-chair—his slippers and dressing- gown lay close beside it. Gerald felt a choking sensation in his throat as he gazed around. It was pleasant to be the recipient of these little attentions; and yet how she would shrink from him if she knew the truth! ‘‘T am sorry yousat up,” he forced himself to say. ‘‘ Don't do it again,” ‘*It would have been impossible to sleep. The evening has seemed long and lonesome with you away. She wheeled a small table up to the fire, and placed a tray on it within reach of his hand. Gerald sat for awhile with his eyes fixed steadil, upon her face. It wore a drawn, pinched loo quite new to him, and a hectic spot burned in either cheek, ‘You have worn yourself out with watch- ing,” he said, feeling a keen pang of self-re- proach, ‘‘ Why did you do it?” “Oh, I am not tired in the least.” She sat down in the nearest chair, her face lighting up with the happy smiles his presence always called forth. How pretty, innocent, and child-like she looked, with the soft firelight playing over her graceful figure! Gerald asked himsel youte ey how it had been possible for him to win the love of two such women as Edna and Neria. She did not utter a single reproach because he had left her, or inquire what had taken bim away. Itseemed to suffice that he was: back again, and she could bask in the delight of his presence. . Suddenly clasping the slender hand that lay in her lap, be said, in a voice that trembled vigil: **How would you bear it, Edna, if compelled to give me up altogether?” | She lifted a startled glance to his face, _ ‘‘Don’t speak of such a contingency,” she said, with a shudder, ‘‘We have been sepa- rated enough. - You must never, never leave me again. The repressed excitement with which she spoke sent her into a violent tit of coughing. erajd had heard nothing like it before. Sud- denly she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, and a few drops of crimson fell on her white dress. “What is that?’ Gerald cried in sudden ter- ee Blood!” Their eyes met for an instant. Hers were full of pleading anguish, The wretched man fell back, shocked aad stunned.» He seemed to- realize at once what was to be the end. CHAPTER XXI. FEDORA’S FATR. “Itis over. What is over? Nay, how much is over truly?” A SURPRISE awaited Neria, She was sitting listlessly at the window, the morning subse- quent to Gerald’s visit, when a sudden commo- tion in the street caused her to look out, A crowd had gathered about a woman on the side- walk, and two strange men were trying to lift her into a carriage, despite the frantic strug- gles made by the pocr creature to escape. Neria recognized her at a glance. It was Fe- dora Brandon! For an instant she sat spell- bound with ag! $e What strange Providence had brought that poor, crazed woman !o ber door? It was wonderful, to say the least. Of course she could do no less than hasten to Fedora’s rescue. Descending to the street, she laid her hand on the arm of the man who stood nearest, { “What are you doing with that poor soul?” she demanded, “Taking her to the asylum,” he replied. “Don’t you see she is mad—mad as a March hare? It isn’t safe for her to be walking the streets.” ‘‘ Has she no friends in this crowd?” “Not one, miss, Nobody knows who:she is, or where she came from. When I first noticed her, she was staggering along, wringing her ’ | com - “ Hush,” said Neria. ‘‘Tell me why you were — 7 hands, talking to herself, and gesticulating. She looks about fagged out, poor thing.” __ She did indeed. Her face was xhastly pale, she breathed heavily and painfully, and ‘there were strange bluish shadows ubout the sunken eyes, eT bis lady is a friend of mine,” Neria said, hastily. ‘Sheseemsto be very ill. Lcould not think of her being sent to anasylum. Sheneeds the tenderest care. I will see that those having charge of her are notified at once.” “Very well, miss.” Five minutes later, Fedora was lying on the couch in Neria’s chamber, and thé crowd had dispersed. he poor soul did not seem mere than half- conscious at first; but presently she unclosed her eyes and fixed them in a piercing look on Neria’s face. “* Ah,” she cried, feebly, ‘‘is it you? [have never forgotten that face, and never will. Gil- bert thought it far lovelier than mine, No wonder. Ihave never been to him the wife he deserved. I could not be. Whenever I tried there was something here in 1 y head that set me all wrong, and hindered me from sueceed- ing. He is tired of me, I suppose, and wants a nion who will be more congenial.” wandering up and down the streets alone,” ‘“*Tt was -" head again. It has done nothing but whirland buzz fordays together, I thought it would ,be better if 1 got away, and went where I pleased.” “‘Poor woman. Lie down and keep yourself quiet for a little. I am going to send a messen- © ger for your husband,” : ‘‘Do,” was the answer. “I am too weak to go back, and I miss him sadly. I should feel better if he were here.” at Neria went out and dispatched a servant for Mr..Brandon, and another for thé nearest physician. By this time Mrs. Faunce had come down from her chamber. She had already — heard that a strange woman wasin the house, and seemed half-inclj to beangry. “*W hat is all this?” she exclaimed, : Neria hastily explained. ‘‘1 could not, send Mrs: Brandon away. She does not look strong. enough to bear even the shorte:t journey. am eursicived that she did not sink down ex- hausted in the street.” _ : Mrs. Faunce was a woman of generous im- pulses, and her brow cleared at once, “Well, we will do what we can for the poor soul, But I don’t believe in taking in common vagrants from the street.” he physician was first to arrive. After a~ bee examination he stepped aside and gravely said: “The paticns is very low. She cannot last” through the day. You had better send for her triends, if she has any.” __ Neria’s heart beat with sudden fear, What if Fedora should pass away before Mr. Bran- con could arrive? A little past noon he drove up to the door, accompanied by Mrs. Charlton. lis horses were covered with foam and dust. Hurrying ’ up the steps, he scarcely paused to greet Neria, who met him atthe door, but entered the cham- ber where his wife was lying. ‘“* How is she?” he hoarsely inquired. ‘“‘Be prepared for the worst,” said the phy- sician, who stood near. ‘ : “*Ts she dying?” “She is sinking fast. It is well you are here. I) au hour’s time all will be over,” ee: Neria saw him totter toward the bed, and fall on bis knees beside it. Then she went out, followed by the physician, and closed the door, leaving husband and wife together, Meanwhile, Mrs. Charlton waited in one of tbe ante-rooms near by, her hand closely clasped in that of her young friend. A tear ‘ell down ber face now and then, but on the whole she looked relieved. ‘It is better so,” she finally said: ‘ better for my brother, better for Fedora hurself. I can- not tell what-a charge she has been to us. Gil- pee has suffered everything, endured every- 1ing. ‘* It will soon be over.” ‘She has been more than ustially violent for some days. I felt that the end was near. Early in the evening the hired nurse fell asleep at her post, and it was then that Fedora es- caped. We did not know she was gone until long after daybreak. Ican never forgive the woman for her carelessness, Gilbert had watched with her himself for many nizhts, until he was quite worn out, and I prevailed on © You can bring her in here, | — = i a him to take a little rest. He was almost — : Fi ad / /
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7s ' growing white even to the lips. rt eae | ‘ SSS ddayrnnged (-webew Ke: learned what" had:!oe2 curred.” Mrs. Charlton sat for a moment with her gaa upon the carpet, and then re- som: . ’ “We have succeeded well in keeping Fedora ’ hidden fromthe world. You are the only per- son outside the house who was aware of her ex- istence. Butall will come out now; secrecy is no longer possible. No matter. She will soon be beyond the reach of human justice, and I know that Heaven will deal leniently with one like her.” **You once told me that Mrs. Brandon had been guilty of a great crime,” Neria said. Mrs. Charlton shuddered: E “Yes. I cannot bear to speak of it. The story is a horrible one. The briefest outline must suffice. It was after her baby was born that the first symptoms of insanity manifested themselves. I think she was jealous of the love Gilbert lavished upon the child. We were spending the summer onthe sea-shore. One day ‘ora took her babe down to the beach, and earrying it far out on the rocks, deliber- ately left it there until the tide came in and ‘swept it away.” ** How horrible!” ' “A party of fishermen were near enough to see what she had done, but the child was dead before they could reach it. Of course there was a great excitement. My brother hurried Fedora away before an arrest could be made, and fortunately for them the train on which they fled was wrecked. You can divine the rest. Fedora’s name appeared in the list of the killed.. The stratagem was hardly justifiable haps, but Gilbert could do no less. He pitied \per _ his mad wife, and wished to spare her all that was possible,” “She has been living at Cragnest all these years?” | “Yes. No other ref well.. The house is retired, and we could be constantly with her to see that sbe did no fur- ther harm: But it has been a terrible life for usall. Wicked as it may appear, I can but re- joice that’ the end approaches.” Even as she spoke a low wail sounded from the inner room. She raised her head, and her eyes met Neria’s for an instant. ‘« Allis over,” she said, in a solemn voice, It was even so. CHAPTER XXII. A BRIDGE OF GLASS. Ah me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is!—SHAKESPEARE. . MiasrorTUNES never come singly. The morn- ' Ing subsequent to Mrs, Brandon’s sudden death Neria was sitting alone in her chamber when the maid brought in a letter. It had been left at the door by a messenger, and was addressed “in Gerald’s Atherton’s well-known hand. _ Neria felt a faintness come over her as she recognized the familiar writing. ‘‘ What can he bave to say to me?’ she murmured, pressing her hand uvon her beating heart. _ The first impulse was to return the letter un- read; but curiosity and interest triumphed. _ Breaking the seal, she read these words; “Edna is quite ill, and asks for you continually. _ Your conduct in leaving the house so abruptly, and rake aed rémaining aloof, perplexes and dis- sses her. She thinks of nothing else. Her mind 5 re ‘4s, filled with vague conjectures. She fears that - something has been done to offend you. I entreat you to come to her, if only for an hour. It will be an ordeal, but youcan bearit. This letter is writ- ten at her request, though, of course, she is igno- rant of its wording, The poor child grieves about u to such an extent she may fall seriously ill, if yourefuse to come. Worse than al) the rest, she _might suspect the truth! Come, if only to avert such a calamity.” Neria read this letter twice through, her face Edna ill, and calling for her! How dreadful! Surely she might have been spared such a trial as this? ‘Of course I must go to her,” she thought. '“Tt would seem heartless and cruel to remain away. But it is hard—very hard!” She dressed herseif for the journey and or- ‘dered the carriage at once. Her limbs trem- bled, and she panted with emotion as she as- cended the steps of the Atherton mansion, and rung the bell. Little did she dream, at the time of her hurried flight, how soon she would we back again. The elder Mrs, Atherton let her in. ( _ i “‘Tam glad you have come,” she said, an ex- a. bs ga of relief flitting over her face. ‘‘ Edna s nothing but, fret, and ask if you are here. e seemed te promise so BD) SS SE ee a a, Ee ee SN A Yur A MAN’S SIN. At this rate she will soon work herself into a fever.” “What made her il?’ Neria eagerly in- quired. . “She was up late, the night before last, waiting for Gerald to come home, and took a violent cold. It has settled on her lungs, and we have not been able to break it up.” Neria drew a quick, shivering breath. ‘Can I go to her at once?” “Certainly. You know the way.” “She is alone?” ac Yes,” Neria hurried away. The woman's eyes were fastened on her face in an expression that made her uneasy. Could it be possible that Mrs, Atherton suspected the truth? Breathing a silent prayer for strength, she entered Edna’s chamber. The sick girl was re- clining in an easy-chair beside the fire. She wore a loose white dress, with a shawl drawn over her shoulders, Neria was shocked and startled by the change a few hours had wrought, Edna looked haggard, pallid, and at least a dozen years older than when she saw’ her last. For some time the sisters remained locked in each other’s arms, uttering no word, Edna first recovered herself. Tears were chasing each other rapidly down her cheeks, ‘““You do not know how I have missed you!” she exclaimed. ‘* Why did you'go away?” ‘¢T—I—fancied you woul out me,” Neria stammered, at a loss what to reply. Eid you? What a mistaken notion! No one could ever make up for your loss, my precious sister,” She clasped Neria’s trembling form still closer, affectionately kissing her cheek, ‘“‘T see how it is,” she added. ‘* You feared being in the way now that my husband has re- turned. Foolish girl! he would soon learn to prize your society quite as highly as I do.” Then, after a thoughtful pause, she resumed: “How strange it svems that you two have not met each other yet! I was so anxious for you to be friends. Gerald is a great admirer of beauty, and you are nearer his ideal than a person I know—much nearer than I am.” very word wrung Neria’s heart, but she managed, by a tremendous effort, to remain outwardly calm, j “T have talked of you so much that my hus- band must feel as though he knew you already. A curious little circumstance happened last night. I am tempted to tell you all about it.” s Neria made no reply, she went on: , “T was so ill that Gerald insisted upon sitting up with me. Toward morning he fe!l asleep in his chair, and L heard him repeat a name twice over. it was yours, Neria. I had dinned it so continually in his ears that he even dreamed of you. Edna laughed pleasantly as she spoke. How far she was, poor soul, from divining the truth! - rt Gerald must be somewhere -about the house,” she presently resumed. ‘Please ring that bell—I will have him called up. The sooner you are introduced to each other the better I shall like it,” *Don't,” panted Neria, drawing back the outstretched hand. ‘Let us enjoy these first moments alone together,” _ Edna breathed an impatient sigh. “Tt almost seems as though you purposely ut difficulties in the way of meeting with my usband. No matter. There will be plenty of time. ‘Now that you are here, I do not intend | to give you up in a hurry. Aunt Faunce is better able to do without you than I am.” A silence fell. Neria sat looking thought- fully into the fire. How her heart was aching! Every time a door shut, or a step crossed the corridor, she started up with a shiver. The fear was constantly upon her that Gerald might suddenly make his appearance in the chamber. ; ‘‘Surely he knows that I am here,” she thought, trying to reassure herself. ‘It would be cruel to put me to such a test. For bis own sake as well as mine he will avoid a meeting.” Edna scon betrayed symptoms of weariness, Her strength had sadly given way. After a violent fit of coughing, she said: “‘T think I could sleep if left quite to myself for a while. But you must promise not to leave the house, Neelie. I want a good long talk with you as soon as I wake up,’ You have never given me your real reason for going away so abruptly, the other night. I shall ae rest satisfied until everything is made clear me, nee 7 be happier with-’ Neria withdrew to a small anteroom near by and sat down, trying to still her beating heart. She felt like one walking over a bridge of glass. At any moment something might iia to ren- der further concealment impossible. The ter- rible nature of the peril incurred turned her sick and cold; and yet how was it to be avoided? The moments wore on, and Neria was buried sO eels in gloomy reflections that sho did. not hear the soft, light steps that approached the door, nor the knob as it was gently turned. Looking up all at once with the sudden con- sciousness of another presence in the room, she beheld Gerald Atherton standing before her. He was deadly pete, and his eyes burned with an unsteady light. ‘Hush! he whispered, stretching out his hand to detain her as, after: the first startled exclamation, she attempted to. slip past. ‘‘Did you think I would let you come and go without exchanging even a word: with you?” Neria sunk into a chair, trembling with pain and anger. ‘*How dare you enter my presence?” sbe panted. ‘The very least you could do was to remain aloof.” : “‘Forgive me.” “How can I? You have betrayed the trust I ae get in you. You know very well that | would not have entered the house but for the. het Understanding that. we would not meet ere. = took a step nearer, eagerly holding out his i ‘* This farce has gone’far enough,” he said. Neria, darling, I find it is impossible to give he Pe The old love has flamed up in my eart like a volcano. I tried to do my duty and be faithful to Edna, tut it was of no use. The struggle was hig! Par It has well-vigh killed * you already.” at is the use? You. are my wife, and it is unjust that we should ig to sacrifice our happiness for an- other. . \Neria had her hand on her heart—to still its convulsive throbbing. ** Hush,” she cried. Go, go at once! I would rather die than the truth come to light at this late day.” a ave “You have nothing of which to feel ashamed.” “Remember Edna,” she pleaded, in the husky accents of intense despair. ‘Be merciful to- my poor sister, If you ever felt the least af- ‘*T cannot listen to you, | fection for her, Limplore you to remain faith- - ful till the end.” ** And give you up?” ““Yer—a thousand times yes. Go!” A lurid light flashed over his handsome face, “Never! You shall not torment me go, _ will brave everything rather than enduré it a moment longer, You are a thousand times dearer to me than when I wooed and won you in New Orleans, one year ago. I deceived you then, imagining my love for you but the evan- escent passion of an hour. Now I know differ- ently. lt would be impossible to trifle with you. Heaven be praised that our m was legal and binding! It gives me a claim a ad eh that otherwise I might have lost for- ever. She did not speak or move; and whil sat like one frozen to the spot, id. at breathless, there came the soft rustle of a wo- man’s dress across the floor, and Edna Ather- ton paused beside her chair! CHAPTER XXIII. _ TOO LATE! Let us the harvest of our labor eat. ~—Drypen. NERIA saw at a glance that her sister had heard and understood, and all secrecy was at an end forever, Pale and cold as a statue carved in marble she stood there confronting the two, her white dress as it swept the floor in soft, clinging folds, lending an additional air of ghastliness to her livid face. One hand was held pressed agai her beating side, the other she extended with an air of command that was almost a menace. It seemed an age before the frozen lips parted. ““What is all this?” she demanded. ‘Tell me—I will know the truth, and the whole truth.” She knew already; but the stunned, bewil- dered brain needed further confirmation of the dreadful story before it could be comprehended me ean a uddenly awakened from the fitfyl slumber into which she had fallen by the Eh voicus in the ante-chamber, Edna had risen and sto- + -_-
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‘Jen forth to learn who was there. . here,” The door happened to stand ajar, and almost stupefied with horror, she had listened to every word of Gerald’s concluding speech. ' No one replied to her for a moment, Gerald’s face was livid, and his teeth chattered. Now ' that the crisis had come, all his bravado had ’ deserted him. “Why don’t you speak?” Edna said, in a low, constrained voice, looking from one to the other. . Her calmness was frightful—more appalling Sg the most violent outbreak would have en.» f “A MAIVS SIN. anes retey Sep Sees VER on at, sumed. ‘Aunt Faunce has a kind heart—she will surely give me shelter. Heaven grant that 1 may not live long to trouble any one,” : Gerald was looking at her with a stunned, stupid gaze. Seeing her turn slowly away, he | sprung forward with a hoarse, inarticulate cry: ‘“Edna, do not leave me like this! I have been a wretch, but I promise to do everythin in my power to atone fcr the past. I will be al you ever imagined me. Don’t go!” She coldly waved him away. ‘Too late. Let me pass, if you please!” ‘Will ip shake ‘your resolution? Do you not see that I suffer terribly, as wellas you? “This mystery must be explained,” shé went } One moment—” » on, with the air of an injured queen. ‘Gerald, you and Neria pretended to be strangersto each other. How is it that I find you conversing to- gether like this?” He made an effort to recover himself. ‘*The—the meeting was accidental,” he stam- mered. ‘*Don’t. think of it any more. Come back to your chamber. You are too ill to be She shudderingly shook his hand aside, _ “Tam not to be put off,” she said, ‘Let me know the worst at once.” Seeing him draw back she turned suddenly to Neria, and added, in accents of gentle entreaty: **You will tell me... My brain seems numb, my thoughts sluggish. cannot understand things as I did once. For Heaven’s sake do not — me in suspense.” , eria buried her face on her arms, “How can I tell you?” she groaned. ‘‘ How ean 1?” ‘ ‘You will at least answer such questions as I may ask? It would be cruel to deny me that satistaction. I wish to know if the man stand- me yonder is the same you have told me about —he who married you in New Orleans and af- terward deserted you? Are Lawrence Gordon and Gerald Atherton one and the same?” _ There-was no resvonse. After a silence that hasted only a few seconds, but seemed like as many hours, Edna added, in an apathetic voice: “tam answered. To my mind all is now r'ectly clear. Neria, I understand why you eft the house so abruptly after he—Gerald— came home, You had not the courage to. re- main and meet bim in my presence.” Forgive 'me,”. Neria cried, falling on her knees at her sister’s feet. “I would sooner die than cause you a moment’s pain. 1 did not know, or even guess the terrible truth until the night Gerald came back. Oh, why did I ever live to see this hour?” ‘* You should have told me at once,” ‘IT could not. I meant to go'away and hide - myself both from you and him. 1 was the one prayer of my heart that the truth should never reach your ears. I hoped you would live and die iguorant of it.” God will-d otherwise. It was my privilege to understand’ the position in which F fait been Paco. You did wrong in trying to conceal it om me for a moment.” Then passing one band slowly across ber fore- head, she resumed: It is better to deal with each other plainly in such a trouble. Do not imagine, dear Neria, that I blame you in the least for what has oc- curred. You are as innocent of intentional wrong as [ am.” “Ob, yes, yes,” It is of our changed positions that I wish to speak, I have not forgotten the verdict of the lawyer's agent, who went to New Orleans to in- vestigate the facts of your marriage. He pro- nounced it a valid ceremony. It must have been such. Gerald Atherton is your husband —“ ae lait ‘ er ferced composure gave a li she uttered these words, aed. enti Reco Fong chair, she shuddered convulsively. hey were the knell of peace and happiness lost forever to her soul. “Don’t say that,” cried Neria, starting im- apie to her feet. ‘‘I have no claim upon im—wish fornone. You are his acknowledged wife in the sight of the world. Keep your po- Sition as such, God forbid that I should de- prive you of it!” ' A slight flush kindled in Edna’s pale cheeks, _‘*You forget,” she said, sharply. ‘Could I live with Gerald Atherton as his wife, knowing that the title I bore rightfully belonged to an- other? No, I am not fallen so low as that.” Neria uttered a low cry of horror. She had meter thought of the matter in that particular rs Heaven hel Tk hands, “T shall goaway from here at once,” Edne re- us,” she moaned, wringing her fs The sentence was ‘never finished; Edna’ sud- denly pressed‘her handkerchief to her mouth. It was instantly covered with blood. That terrible scene had done its work, Ge- rald had barely time to catch her in his arms as she fell forward insensible! CHAPTER XXIV. AFTER THE REVELATION. Every one can master a grief But he that has it. —SHAKESPEARE, WHEN consciousness returned, Edna was ly- ing on the couch in her own pretty chamber. She felt weak and ill, and d scareely raise her head from the pillow. A sense of loss and pain weighed heavily upon her heart. . Her first thought was of Gerald. Seeing Ne- ria bending anxiously over her, she caught her hand, saying, in an eager whisper: ‘““Where is he? Why is he not here?” “*F asked him to wait outside,” was the an- swer. ‘Shall I tell him you have recovered; and wish to see him?” ‘*No, no.” She fell back, drawing a quick breata. ‘‘ Don’t let him enter here, Neria,” she leaded. ‘‘I am weak—and I loved him so. It is better that we should never meet again.” “Calm yourself. It shall be as you wish.” A long silence ensued. Edna lay with her trembling hands clasped. above her heart. She was trying to look the situation squarely in the ace—to comprehend the calamity that had overtaken her, ‘‘ What is the matter with me?’ she said, at last. ‘I feel strangely. I remember falling insensible, but that is all.” Neria tried in vain to put her off, ‘‘The doctor says you have ruptured a. blood- vessel,” she reluctantly replied. “It is nothing serious, fortunately; you will be up again in a few days.” 3 “A few days!” Edna echoed. ‘I must leave this house before sunset! I could not pass another night here. That is out of the question.” “Try to be patient. You are not strong en- ough to make any change.” ; “IT must go—I must!” Edna cried, fover- ishly. ‘‘I can bear anything: better than to tarry here where I have been so pa Me Man- age it any way you please—only yield to me.” Neria began to expostulate, but it was of no use, She was bent on getting — as quickly as possible, and could not be moved. She soon worked herself into such a fever of excitement that Neria saw it was better to yield. length; ‘‘ we must be guided by his advice.” She did so, and won a reluctant consent that the removal should be made at once. All that now remained was to apprise Gerald of the de- cision, She found him walking ¥ and down the cor- ridor like one distracted. Hearing her step, he turned and came quickly toward her. “What a fearful retribution has overtaken me!’ he exclaimed. ‘I feel as though all was lost that made life desirable. I have sinned, but my punishment is hard to bear.” She had no wish to discuss the situaticn. “Tam here to speak of Edna,” she coldly said. ‘In spite of her weak condition she is de- termined to leave the house at once.” ‘‘What! she persists in abandoning me?” «c Yes,” Covering his face, he groaned aloud. “T submit. But you must let me see her alone for a few moments before she goes,” he said, at length.’ a Impossible ’ was the decisive answer. “My sister could not endure another interview in her weakened condition. Neither does she wish it. Spare her the ordeal ” “You do not care how much my heart is wrung, or how entirely I am bereft,” he pas- sionately exclaimed, ey Neria made no response, It was but a just retribution—one he had brought upon himself. ‘ ' ‘ \ t : . s * ‘I will speak to the physician,” she said, at He was suffering a little of the agony he had ruthlessly brought upon others. Edna was sitting up when she reéntered. ber- chamber, eagerly giving orders to the maid who'had been summoned. Her eyes glittered with excitement, a hectic spot burned in either cheek, “You need she said. | ‘‘ I shall have no use for the others, or my jewels. Leave them all together and he —Mr. Atherton—can dispose of them as he pleases.” - The bewildered maid obeyed these-instruc- tions to the letter. She knew something un- usual had occurred, that.all was notas it should be between ber. master and mistress, But, as nothing had been said in her hearing, she was very far from divining the truth. “My lady is ee she thought, ‘“‘and has taken it into her head to go away fer a while.. I hope there has been no quarrel—she and mas- ter seemed so fond of each other.” «. tid It was only by a tremendous effort that Edna succeeded in keeping any eontrol over herself. The terrible anguish and d that. swept her soul was enough to madden one. When at last all was ready, and, clinging to Neria’s arm, she-arose to leave the room an@ the house, she was almost overcome, +: ‘*T have been so: ha looking round at the familiar objects learned to love. ‘‘It will be harder than J im- ee to go away and leave everything behindt Oh, my home, my once happy home, I shall see you no more!” i: No tears fell from her burning ,eyes, but hid. ing her face on her sister’s shoulder she stood thus for several minutes, shuddering con- vulsively. - ‘*T came here a happy bride,” she said, “and ; never dreamed what a farce I was levine. A wrecked life and broken heart are all I have to: take away.” ee. iia ta said Neria, drawing her forcibly ard, “Tt will never do to give way like this . ‘ ’ The halls and corridors were clear. Geraki had taken care of that. Neither he nor Mrs. Atherton: eg anh aoe the latter had held. herself aloof from the first. understanding the situation of affairs, sympathies were with her son. It was with a last long, lingering look full : unutterable anguish that Edna left the ouse. “This is my farewell,” she said. ‘I shalt never come here again, or behold anything f pane behind. It seems like taking leave of the. ead. They entered the carriage. draw a free breath until they reached Mrs. Faunce’s door, She feared that a second hem- orrhage might set in on the way. ber- Mrs. Faunce stood waiting in the hall, ber shrewd old face betraying wonder and _curi- osity. She fell back a step with a smothered ejaculation as her glance fell upon the pale,. drooping figure of Edna, me ** Mercy on me! What is all this?” Neria made a quick sign of caution, ——~ ‘‘Hush!” she said, in a low tone of voice.. ‘* Ask no questions, but leave me to deal with | my sister alone. J will explain all, prese ~ rs. Faunce leaned against the wall ing them to pass by. she been so astonished. She was too clever by far not to realize that a terrible calamity had occurred, ' os ‘“ What can it be?” she vainly asked herself. ‘Tn the first place, Neria came flying here, at dead of night, for refuge, and now it is Edna. Something must be radically wrong at the Atherton mansion. But what?’ ee: , An hour later she had heard the whole story. Leaving Edna lying in the deep sleep of ex- haustion, Neria sought the presence of her — aunt and revealed all, without reservation. - Mrs. Faunce could scarcely believe the evi- dence of her senses. ’ ‘My God!” she gasped, at last. sible that Gerald Atherton is the wretch who treated you so shamefully? To think that Edna — should have married him, too, and neither of you to know. It is dreadful!” She might have done something rash in her horror and indignation had not Neria soothed — and restrained her. “T entreat you to he careful,” pleaded the wretched girl. ‘‘For Edna’s sake there must be no scandal. It is not necessary that tho- facts should ever come to light. The world will know that my sister and her busband have parted, but it need not be told the reason.” ‘““Edna’s husband!” repeated the blunt old Pa -.. ‘ 49° ck only my plainest dresses,’” | py here,” she moane(l, C) Not very clearly | Neria did not. er- © Never, in all her life, had. “Is it pos- —
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) ¢ “4 irs hes ans , a Use ey re it ea a Te vr ys et as hall e.g le Se on, . wT eee AL Oa £ ; iy . an Monts : i 22 7 4 / P sy * wa 9 = b's ’ 4 DN t . eiierk a ee woman. ‘‘ Why, he is yours, child!—you have the only legal claim—he married you first.” Neria’s pale face flushed a little. “What a terrible state of affairs! It is al- most beyond belief. How Gerald could have re- amained ignorant so long of the relationship exist- ing between you and Edna passes my comprehen- sion, mer even a word, or a careless refér- ence, Wo d have been: sufficient to enlighten Jim. ‘: Phe explanation seems easy enough,” Neria rravely replied. ‘‘I had taken the name of range when Gerald first met me, and he never knew it did not rightfully belong to me. My past life was a subject we never discussed, na séems to have been equally reticent, though from a very different motive. Pride kept her silent. It was no pleasant task to speak to her husband of a sister who had left | b home clandestinely to take a menial position among stran mde 5 “I wish I had the wretch by the neck! I coer Fy es with right good will,” ejacu- lated Mrs. nee. She felt. the force of Neria’s reasoning, how- |. ever. Yes, the secret must be kept—it was due ‘to all. The night emer After that first sleep, Edna never closed her*eyes. She lay 4 stifi, a low moan escaping her lips now and ‘then, She grew perceptibly weaker as the Jmours wore on. It frightened Neria to look at ‘her. A few lagging moments had done the work of weeks. Some time during the following day she bet _ looked up suddenly, and said in a tremulous voice: ; “ Have youseen him—Gerald—since we came away?” F '' No,” Neria replied. She si heavily. P on | thought he would at least come to inquire after me.’ ‘‘He has sent messengers every hour. He ' would searcely dare to come himself.” A pleased light broke over Edna’s beautiful, pale face. ‘He is not indifferent to my suf- ferings,” sbe murmured. “Jt is a relief to ‘ixnow that.” CHAPTER XXV. ENTERING INTO REST. She said: ‘‘I am aweary, aweary— ' Would God that I were dead!” ~—TENNYSON. _ Neagny a month went by. t Kdna was rapidly and surely fading. Day day she grew weaker, her coughing fits more thé hemorrhages, to which she was ‘mow e704 a more frequent. lt soon became _ impossible to disguise the fact that her tarry on ' this earth would not be for long. - Edna was one of the first to realize her im- pending fate. One’day as Neria sat beside the | be a comfort to me. Perhaps there is some fed, bathing her hot brow and hands with eau | reparation I could make. God knows how wiil- Jogne, she spoke of it. “To most persons of my age the thought of death is terrible. It only brings comfort to me. There could be no other escape from the de- grading and intolerable position in which Iam placed. Iam ready to go.” — ; '“ Ob, Edna” cried Neria, in a choking voice. “TY know you will mourn for me,” she said, lifting her hollow eyes to her sister’s face. ‘*You have always loved me tenderly and de- votedly. For a time it may seem very lonely here. Buteven you will rejoice to feel that I am at rest where shame and sorrow can never .assail me more.” d “Do not give up. You should try to live for the sake of those who love you.” Edna slowly shook her head. “The burden of life is more than I could bear. ‘God knew it, and is mercifulin calling me home. A little while, and I shall be beyond the reach of grief and pain.” after a long pause she added, in a musing ne: ‘When all is over I would like to be taken to “my old home, and buried beside my mother. have a notion that I could rest better there. The skies are warmer, the sun would kiss my Lape and flowers bloom earlier and later wpon t. Do you promise?” f ‘“Yes,” Neria answered, unsteadily. thing you wish.” _ After that conversation, she seemed to take \ giant strides toward the grave. All her hopes and desires were centered init. She lay for the most part with closed eyes, so white and sha- ae Any- ' dow-like tbat Neria often bent over her with a thrill of terror lest the death-angel had al- Feady claimed his own. { | | } | 1) One day, after a long silence, she suddenly stretched out her wasted hand, suffering it to fall upon her sister’s. ‘‘Neria, are we alone?” she said, in an ea whisper. ‘I have something to say to you ge ae te ges ee “You can ree. ear, ere is no one else to hear,” me Aig eyes drooped; for an instant she hesi- ‘What I wish to say concerns Gerald and— and—yourself,” she faltered. ‘‘ Forgive me if I cause ie momentary pain, I know that you loved him well and truly. You are his wife. He will be a better man for what he has through. When I am gone I want you to promise that m3 will take the place I have wrongfully ed, the name I have ‘Never!’ cried Neria, starting back. “I could not. It would be an insult to your mem- ory—abhorrent to my wronged womanhood.” A ‘* You will feel differently by and by, per- aps. ‘*T am sure I shall not.” ‘But it is my wish that you should be re- united,” Edna said, in a solemn voice. ‘‘ Ger- ald will do all that is possible to atone. I know he loves you still—better than he ever loved me. You will be happy. You will take your true position in the world. A little while, and the memory of this time will seem like a horri- ble dream. “Do not speak of such a consummation!” Neria exclaimed. ‘‘I could not entertain the thought for one moment. I cannot—dare not tell you my feelings toward one who has so wronged us both. Let us not talk more of it. I cannot bear it.” At alate hour of that same seis” as Neria, sat beside the couch, there came alow tap at the window. Edna was asleep. Neria rose with a startled feeling, and, approaching the window, drew back the shade. Gerald stood there on the little balcony that extended along the front of the house. is fig- ure appeared clearly outlined against.the star- orne.” lit sky. Ho signed for Neria to raise the sash. ‘t How is she?’ he eagerly inquired, drawing her out beside him the instant she had complied with his request. ‘ Fading rapidly away, difficulty restraining her tears. more will see the end.” o ‘You have relinquished all hope!” soba? He stood silent a moment, one hand pressed tightly upon his throat. : ‘Can I see her?” he said at length in a hoarse voice that sounded utterly unlike his own. “Of what use would it be?” “} could ask her forgiveness again. ” she answered, with “A few days It would ingly I would do anything in my power—even to give my life.” , Reparation! at that late day! It turned Ne- ria sick to think of it. The time for that had gone on forever. While she stood silent, trembling with sorrow and indignation, there came a rustling sound within the room, and a feeble voice spoke her the room. ‘*You are worse?’ she exclaimed. Edna feebly put up her hand. ‘¢ Yes,” she answered, her voice searcely andi- ble for weakness. ‘‘ I feel that the end is here. It has come sooner than we expected—almost too soon for my purpose, perhaps.” Then, fixing her glazing eyes eagerly on her sister’s face, she added: 3 “T bave one request tomake. I mustseehim before I die! Do. not refuse me. I could not go without. IT always meant to send for bim at the last. Iloved bim so—no one could blame me for that. Neria, Neria, you haye not the heart to refuse my dying request?” A moment’s hesitation, and the wretched girl cried in a voices of grief and horror: ‘“No, no! You shall see bim.” “Thank you. Pray send at once—I feel that Tam going rapidly.” ‘‘ There is no need—he is here!” Edna started up with a wild glitter in her eyes. : : ** Heret. Oh, do not deceive me. I conld not bear it.” 2 Neria went straight to the window and threw back the blind. ‘You can enter,” she said to the cold, shiver- ing Spare that waited outside. A glad cry came from the couch as Gerald stepper across the sill. He went feebly on, and falling on his knees, caught the hand of the dy- ing, and held it pressed convulsively to his lips. ‘Oh, Edna, is it thus we meet at last? She laid her cheek against his, and so held him fast for a moment. All the pain and grief were gone from her face—a divine peace reigned there instead. “You are with me again,” she breathed, ‘‘and I can die content.” After a brief silence she looked up and said: “ Kiss me, gether. My last moments belong to him,” What passed within that room no one ever knew. At last, after a long interval, Gerald threw open the door and fell half fainting across the threshold. Neria did not stop to question him, but entered bastity. was still. Edna lay with her hands fold- ed, a peaceful smile parting her lips. Th..t tor- tured heart had found rest at last. CHAPTER XXVI. THE BITTER END. But whatso’er its end below, His life began and closed in woe, —Brrow. FASHIONABLE New York society was shocked and startled when news of Edna so brief an illness, went abroad. To the giddy multitude it seemed but a day since she had been one of their number, wiseiae in every rs gay, happy, young, beautiful and be- loved. It was hard to realize that she had one down to death so suddenly, in the early awn of womanhood, crowned with the glory of immortal youth, at an age when life and the pleasures of this world seem brightest and most alluring. She was laid to rest as Gerald Athertcn’s wife, and her society friends never knew—- never will know—the miserable secret: ti at shortened and saddened the life that might otherwise have been so happy. For her sister’s sake, that no suspicion might be awakened, or ieproach cast upon Edna’s memory, Neria accompanied Gerald to the rave. lt wasa terrible ordeal, however, The instant all was over, she withdrew to the seclu. sion of Mrs. Faunce’s house, and with an ach- ing heart, took up the burden of her solitary existence. The sorrow-laden weeks went by. She never May afternoon when, as she was sitting listless, ly in the drawing-room, one of the servants ushered in a gentleman. ; Neria rose with a beating heart. It was Gil- bert Brandon. A quick glance told the agi- tated girl that he was looking better and more at rest than she had ever seen him. “I am. going away.” he said, holding her trembling hand for a moment, “‘ and only came to say good-by.” Making an effort to calm - herself she in- name; uired: ‘‘Neria, where are you?” ‘* Where do you go?” She entered hastily. Edna lay with her eyes “To Europe. A change of scene will be good wide open, breathing heavily ‘and paint. for me, I fancy.” Her countenance wore an expression so strange ‘Will you be long away?” that Neria was struck by it. She felt at once| ‘‘Thatis uncertain,” he replied, “ Atleast a that the shadow of an awful presence was in | year or two.” Neria felt a sudden twinge of pain that did not attempt to anal ee, ee ii A Mrs. Charlton will be very lonely,” she “Yes. I hope you will go frequently to see her while I am absent. Noth‘ng would Please her more,” ; A brief silence ensued. When Gilbert Bran- don es again, it was in a voice tbat quiv- ered despite all bis efforts to keep it steady, “I wish to ask you one question before F go,. Neria. Itis this: Do you still consider your- self bound to that man—to Gerald? I cannot leave in this Ms pines itl respecting your posi- tion, I would gather from your own lips an inkling of what your future is to be,” She shook her head, a slight flush kindling in her cheeks. “JT intend spending it here with aunt Faunce,” she replied. ‘Iam as one dead to the world, and expect so toremain. Life has few interests to one who has passed through deep waters like myself.” . s death, after went abroad, and received no visitors until one Neria, then leave us alone te--
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SS “Ard Gerald Atherton? ‘‘{ hope and pray he may never cross my path again,” she uttered, with veLemence. ‘You look upon yourself as his lawful wife?” “Yes. It was a valid marriage. Nothing save death can set it aside.” The man’s face fell; a sort of smothered groan broke from his lips. ‘‘Good-by,” he said, abruptly, again clasping her band for an instant. ‘It is useless for me tolinger. May Heaven bless and keep you.” The days seemed lonelier than ever after he went away. Neria bad uever before realized the dreariness of her position so sensibly. A sense of want ard dissatisfaction was cou- stantly before her mind. At jast she came to feel that any change to break the dreary monotony of the dragging days would be wel- come, It came, though in a form she had scarcely expected or desired. One memorable morning, Gerald Atherton was ushered unceremoniously into her presence. She had not seen him since the day of Edva’s funeral, and was shocked and surprised at the change visible in his appear- ance, He looked haggard and wild-eyed, and his face was thin and worn. ““I have lived in torment, these last few weeks,” he uttered, after some painful words had passed between them. ‘‘I could endure it no longer. Neria, your resentment must have passed away ere this, You will not refuse me the eas words for which my heart is hunger- ing A What,.do you expect?’ she calmly de- \ manded, though all her pulses were throbbing. _ “That bright dream of one year ago was very sweet tous both. [have never forgotten it, Why should we not live it over? This es- trangement is terrible. It has continued too se already. There should be an end of it.” @ was coming nearer, but she waved him resolutely away. “It is necessary we should understand each other once and forever,” she said. ‘‘ You and I have nothing in common, Gerald Atherton. ree part to see each other no more, He gazed at her a ‘ntegee excitement. “ Vite eahea ue? in earnest, Neria,” he gasped. **' Yes, she replied. ‘The gulf between us is deep as death—and as impaséel ble.” ‘Don’t say that,” he pleaded, in accents of bitter anguish. ‘I cannot give youup. Every obstacle has been removed—nothing stands in the way of our 3 Sethe . [will acknowledge you to all the world as my cherished wife. Oh. Neriayit is not possible that you have ceased to love me?” . : She shrunk with a shudder from his ouf- stretched arms. : ‘Even s0,” she said. ‘‘ You killed my love —the only marvel is that you did not kill me as well. The last remnant of affection perished from my heart while I watched by the dyin bed of ny darling. My own hideous wrongs can forzive—hers I never will! You dealt foully, treacherous'y, monstrously by us both. Go, now; I have no more to say to you. Letus end this distasteful scene,” Neria— ae “*Go, at once!” she repeated, drawin her- self up. ** Hencef, vata - each ther.” eforth we are as strangers to ‘* Have you no pity—no compassion?” “‘None for you,” she coldly replied. “Do . not compel me to summon a servant to show you the door. A strange cry of blended moment, trembling with . ery anguish and rage broke from his li He saw that persistence would be useless, uuibhcposa “Great God! Is this to be my punishment ?” he groaned, striking his clinched hand against pr orehead. .+ He next moment he was gone. Neria saw him climb into the light carriage that, wend jetote the door, snatch up the lines, and strike tose a cruel blow with nis whip, é thers who saw him that day said he drove fee through the streets, his muscles set, his ‘a € pallid as death, his eyes wild and glitter- Salt he result was what might have been ex na 8 Suddenly his light carriage became en- fiche in a snarl of heavier vehicles; the 3 ig ged borse became uncontrollable; and tI en the catastrophe occurred. Gerald was fee ics headlong against a eurbstone only a ew feet distant, where he lay a mass of lacera- ae! Pi pad fl sh. 7° Spoke but once after they picked him up 0 . . J . Neria will forgive me Pic am murmeared, 4 * A MATS SIN. and so closed his eyes upon this world, where his years had been few, but full of evil. Who will say that a violent death was not the fitting end of such a life? CHAPTER XXVII. CONCLUSION. I read her bosom better than she knew. —J. G. HoLuanp. No event of importance marked Neria’s life during the next twelve months. Time, as it rolled by, brought healing on its wings, as it ever does, and her grief for Edna’s sad fate be- came a sorrowful memory. Of Gerald she did not permit herself to think atall, She wished to forget that such a person had ever existed. The life she led was a very useful one, full | of charity and deeds of benevolence, rs, Faunce’s abundant wealth, of which sbe was | the acknowledged heir, rendered it an easy mat- | ter to give witb a generous hand, and she spent , her time in searching out and relieving cases of distress. But one relaxation did the devoted girl per- mit herself—a monthly visit to Cragnest, in or- der to spend aday with Mrs. Charlton. Gilbert Brandon still remained abroad, but bis sister often read long extracts from bis manly and en- tertaining letters, and Neria soon began to look forward to these occasions with a degree of pleasure and interest of which she was scarcely aware. At last there came a day when Mrs. Charlton hurried to meet ber, radiant and happy, the mo- ment the carriage drew up before the door. “I havea pleasant surprise in store for you, dear,” shesaid. ‘‘Come this way.” Perplexed and curious, Neria followed her hostess to the drawing-room door. Mrs. Charl- ton paused on the threshold, gently thrusting her within the room. ‘I’m going to leave you to find out what it is for yourself,” she added, laughingly, and burried a. ay. _ Neria scarcely dared raise her eyes. She felt intuitively. what was coming, even before a warm hand clasped her own, and a rich voice said, close to her ear: “Haye you no words of welcome for a home- sick wanderer?” Gilbert Brandon stood beside her, bronzed with foreign travel, handsome and more manly- looking than when he went away. The expres- sion of peace and content it once bad lacked was on bis face. Neria felt herself blushing crimson as he bent above her. It was a happy moment, “ Welcome home!” she murmured, Claspng her in his arms, with all a lover’s unreasoning impatience, he cried: “ Neria, speak to me, love! Tell me if there is any need ever to leave you again!” She leaned her bead upon his shoulder with a happy sigh. That was her answer. After storm had come sunshine, after trouble acalm, She had found shelter from all her sor- rows inalove that would never weary—never grow cold. .- . THE END. THE Sunnyside Library 1 Latua Rookn. By Thomas Moore....... ... We 2 Don Juan.. By Lerd Byron... ....-..-«. . 20e 3 Parapise Lost. By John Milton ........ *, 10¢ 4 Tue Lapy or THE Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 10¢ 5 Lucizx. By Owen, Meredith |. 10e 6 UnpINe; ok, THE Warer-Srrrit, From the German of Friederich De La Motte Fouaue,... 10¢ | | For sale by ail newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents for single numbers, , Gouble numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VIC.08 & CO., Publishers, “Villiam street N. 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It is fair to assume that no volumes yet. offered to schools, al any ee, contain 80 inary “Ts available and useful* dialogues and dramas, serious: and comic. Dramas and Readings. oe 164 12m» Pages. 20 Cents. f For Schools, Parlo s + goodie | ey the Am- ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, D ess Pieces, Humorous Dialogue. and Burlesque, by : oted writers; and Recitations ber and crag new -nd standard, of the test celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof, A. M. Russell. ‘ DIME HAND-BOOKS. . = Pe oung People’s Series. BrADLe’s Re Hax-booxs FOR OUNG PROPL# “ cover a wide range of subjects, an ospecially adapted to their end. They Sonatiined ot once the cheapest and most useful works yet put into the market for popular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Book of Games. 15d Gents’ Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller. Oya Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ et. ede Book of Verses. | Ball-room Companion.. te Book of Dreams. 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wom oS ZHIBITIONS _o¢ se L SND aN ——— FOR scHOO HOME EN te , : | i. R to £28 imclusive. 15 to 25 #opular Dialogues and Wramas in each book. Each volume 100 12me pages, sen? post-paid, on receipt of price, TEN CENTS. . _ BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors with e@ without the furniture of a stage, and suited to SCHOLARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every age, both male and female. It is fair to assume os, that no other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of wit, pathos, humor and sentiment. tee ee: es ms Dial ae . For three males and two females, | The Golden Rule. For two males and two fem he " Dime egues; Ho. i. Fouttinoe Desitiny.: For four mentian, one male, oo norte iD Fai y Sogen ive ahaa ferndion ie Meeting . For nine young ladies, The Folly of the Duel. For three male speakers. en in and Dgne for. : - z at ing hman. For three boys. Dogaiptians. ion three male speakers. Country Aunt’s Visit to the Cis Several characters. . ’g Coronation.. For male and female, The orant Confounded. For two boys. The Two Romans. For two males. _. °°* Bashion, For two ladies. - The Fast Yo Man. Fortwo males. Trying the Characters. For three males, ~. _ fherehearsal. For six boys. The Year’s Reckoning. Twelve females, one male. | The Happy Family. For several “ animals, Bs Which will you Choose? For two boys. The Village-with One Gentleman. Foreight females | The Rainbow. For several characters. Lam *y i r How to write ‘‘ Popular ” Stories. For two males, The Queen of May. For two little girls, and one male. Be sys . rf 5 i : The New and the Old. For two males. : Be :S The Tea-Party. For four ladies. : x ~ med ree Scenes in Wedded Life. For male and female. Dime Dialogues, No. 2. . A Sensation at Last. For two maleg, Mrs. 1 y ; i For male and female. The Greenhorn. For two males. Tho Mineion Sore Spisit, For five young indiow. The Gentus of Liberty. Two males and one female, | The Three Men of Science. For four males, Sei Se Si. er Cee epent Fase ae Md Saying Bed Pordeveralcharctera | TRE Lieue Shlenopere vor te Meee ; F ‘or seve: ers. : Pe ee aartianl ye ee eae ' | How to Find an Heir, For five males. . , The Virtues. For six young ladies. A Connubial Eclogue.: The Public Meeting. For five males and one females. The English Trayeler., For two males. vs -Dime Dialogues, No. 3. The May Queen. - For an entire school, Dress Reform Convention. For ten females. Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five males, . Courting Under Difficulties, Two males, one femala National Representatives. A Burlesque. Four males Pecaning the Draft. For numerous males, The Genteel Cook. For two males. Masterpiece. For two males and two females. The Two Romans. Fortwo males, . The Same. Second Scene. For two males. Showing the White Feather, Four males, one femate, The Battlo Call. A Recitative. Forone male, ES He A The Frost King. For ten or more versons, e. Starting in For three male: und two femates, Faith, =i and Charity. For three little girls, gt and Joan. For two males and one ‘female. : The May. A Floral Fancy. For six Kittle girls. The Enchanted Princess, 2 males, several females. Honor to Whom Honor is Due? 7 males and 1 female The Gentle Client. Several males and’one female, Phrenology. A Discussion. For twenty males, Thé Stubbletown Volunteer. 2 males and 1 female, A Scene from “ Paul Pry.”” For four males. The Charms. For three males and one female, | Bee, Clock and Broom _ For three little gir's. i The Right way. A Colloguy, For two boys,’ ; What the Ledger Says... For two males. The Crimes of Dress. A Song. For two boys. 3 The Reward of Benevolence. For four mates, | The Letter, ‘For two males, Dime Dialogues, No. 5. The Three Guesses. For school or parlor, Sentiment. A ‘‘ Three Persons’ ”’ Farce: | Behind the Curtain. For males and femaka, The Eta Pi Society. _For five boys and a teatker. Examination Day. . For several female characters. Trading in “Tfaps.”’? For several males. The Schoolboys Tribunal. For ae } "7 ( | BEADLE Awd ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. ¥. ales General Dime Book Publishers.
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ard > eo ee a eer RR aan Y UTI STRANGER TIA a oe a AA | 4 .- 2 ar N FICTION ae , NOW READY AND IN PRESS. 1 iidventares of Buffalo Bill, From Boyhood to Man ood. Deeds of. Daring, and Romantic Incidents in the early life of William F. Cody. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 2 The Ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of the Leviathan, A - Romance of Prrilous, Adventure. By Captain Mayne Reid: (G8 An extra large number. 0 : 3 Adventures of Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince, Remarkable career of J. B. Hikok, (known to the world as ‘* Wild: Bill”); giving the true story of bis adventures andacts.. By Prentiss Ingraham, The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders, By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. Texas Jack, the Mustang King. Thrilling Adventures in the Life ot J. B, Omohundro, “Texas Jack.” By Col. P. Ingrabain. Cruise of the Flyaway; or, Yankee Boys in Geylon,. By C. Dunning Clark. Roving Joe: The History of a Young “ Border Ruffian,” | Brief Scenes from the Life of Joseph EB. Badger, Jr. By A. H. Post. The Flyaway Afloat; or, Yankee Boys *Round the World. By C. Dunning Clark. of Wilk ams: Old Grizzly Adams’ Boy Pard. Scenes Waetest dventure in the Life of the Boy Ranger of the Rocky Th ann By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ' ag ry ibe Trail ; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land, A Narra- Ola Sport and Life aronnd Lake Winnipeg. By T, C. Harbaugh. ' Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamer; or, The Monarch of 1 the Mountain, By Dr, Frank Powell. ® Woods and Waters; or, The Exploits of the Littleton Gun : Club. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ISA Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as mt Boy and Man. of Col. Prentiss Ingrabam. By Prof.Wm. R Eyster. 14 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur Hunters on the Buffalo Range. By Oli Coomes. 18 Kit Carson, King of Guides; or, Mountain Paths and Prairie Trails.. By Alber, W..Aiken. 16 Red River Rovers; or, Life and Adventures in the Northwest. By ©. Dunning Clark. 1% Plaza and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam,” (Major Sam 8. Hall.) Bv Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 18 Rifle and Revolver; or, The Jit!)':n Gun Club on the 46 Buffalo Range. By Capt. Frederick W} wry 20 10 il Wide-Awake. George, the Boy Pioneer; hs wee and Adventures in the Backwoods, By Ed. Willett, aa : ashing Dragoon; or, The Story of General George A, a1 Dead eR nd Point to the Big Horn. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Bn spent og sh a Boy; or, Why W ild Ned Harris, the New ; Ung |B ad, ber i ; Blvard f, Weletee eme the Western Prince of the Road. By whe Boy Exi es of Siberia: or, The Watch-Dog of Russia, 8v T. C. Harbaugh, 2. Paul De Lacy, the Fr. York Boys in the Jungles, .By ©, Dunnj AES eeneres. y By €, Dunning Clark. 2 hy "pela iririnion ee amntie Life of Colonel Monstery, uerean Champi n-at-arms.)» Br Captain Fred. Whittaker: 25 Round the Camp Fire ; or Snow-Bound at Siar cinathoedl ue p.” A Tule of Roving Joe and his Hunter Pards, By Jos, E. Badger r oF ger, Jr, or, Life in a Log 2 ench Beast Charmer; or, New 26 Snow-Shoe Tom; or. New York Boys in the Wilderness. A ‘99 we of Spot and Peril in Maine.’ By ‘tc, Harbaugh, ellow Hair, the Boy Chief of the Pawnees. The Ad- venturous Garcen of Edie Burg ss.of Nebraska By G ee 7a) 4 2a z - Ska, Wy Col, Tngraham. a Cas Uhase of the Great White Stag and Camp and 29 rod ee By' Cy Dunning Clark. ae an 80s 44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the Woods. \ By Barry De Forrest. Age 45 Jack, Harry and Tom, the Three Champion Brothers; ar}: “le Adventures of Three Brave Captain Frederick Whittaker. The Condor Killers; By T. C. Harbaugh. the Boy Coral Fischers; or; The Sea Cavern Scourge. Roger Starhuek: - ; 48 Dick, the Stowaway; or, A Yankee Boy’s Strange Cruice. By Charles Morris. | " ro 49 Tip Tresreli, the Floater; or, Fortunes and Misfortunes on the Mississinyi. By Edward Willett. ay ear ae 50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska Charlie, (Ches. E. Burgess.) By) Colonel Prentis: Ingraham. | 51 The Colorado Beys; or, Lite en an Indigo Plantation. By Jose; h E. Badger, Jr. j Bcys with the Tattooed Pirate. ce ae 46 47 Py 52 Honest Harry; or, The Country Boy Adrift in the City, By Charles Morris. a 53 The Boy Detectives; or, The Ycuvg Californians in Shanghei, By T. C. Harbengh. By Gol. Prentiss Ingraham. : a ; 55 Harry Somers, the Sailor-Boy Magician. By 8. W. Penrice. 56 Nobody’s Boys; cr, Life Amcng the Gipsies By J. M Hitt - man. \ 57 Th Menaceric Hunter; Queen. By Major H. Grenville, “Sea Gull,” 58 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the. Mines; Black Diamonds. By Cherles Morris. oe 59 Lud Licnheels, the Young Tiger Fichter, By Roger Starbuck, | ' 60 The Yeunge Trail Hunt: rs; or, New York Boys in Grizzly Land. . By T..C Harbauzh. 61 The Merry Rangers. By C. Dunning Clark / ’ : ‘ A New Issue Yivery week. BEADLE’s Boy’s Lisrary is for sale by ell Newsdealers, five cents per'copy, or sent by mail cn receipt of sx, cents each, ae. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Prnuisvers,. > 8 Wilfom Streat Mew York,” , » res ee , / : a « / 1h Adventures ' By Colonel’ Prentiss cr, Wild. Adventures at, the Equetor. ~ or, Farny Hebart, the Arimal | or, Life ‘Among the | >
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Ediericas Copyright Novels and the Cream of Foreign Novelists, Unabridged, FOR FIVE CENTS! “ _—_ —- 54 One Woman’s Heart; 6 or, Saved from the The a HOCH mous ie Ever Published! 118 The Vicar or wabcale By Oliver bi 1 The aS B ide; or, Will She Marry +, Ki Him? By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell, i Street. By George 8. Kaiine. | Goldsmith i 2 Was It Love? or, Collegians and Sweet- | 55 She Did Not Love Him} or, Stooping to | 119 )tand Mohan. By Annie Thomas. ay hearts. By Wim. Mason Turner, M. } Conquer By Arabella Southwort 120 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss Jaw: - 3 The Girl Wite ; 3 or, The True and the False, | 56 pole ae 5 3 or, Betrothed Married Divorced Porter. A eed a oo ge 146 ! DOORS RAE? fie betes * ih, Pg Love's. Brink. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. | $3 Playing for High Stakes, By Annie Own Sa ee Eg Sodas sg sglne, pris i yx ae a ete (27 Was She a Coquette? or, A Strange By Henrietta Thackeray. 28 8 n §. Stephens. 29 For tor Dear Sake}; or, Saved From Him- self. By Sara Claxton. urtship. bil poy gh! or, The Gambler’s Wife. By | Thomas. 84 4 The Laurel Bush. By the author of John Halifax, Gentleman.” 85 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. 86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot. 87 aoe Romance ofa Poor Young Man, y Octave Feuillet. 147 Sk, War of Hearts. By Corinne Cush- 148 Whiten Was the Woman? or, Stran ¥ Misjudged. By Sara Claxton. eek 149 An Ambitious Girl; or, She Would Be: An Actress. By Frances Helen Davenport, ic P By Agile Penne | Deed; All for Gold. By | 150 Lowe Lord of All3 or, In Her Own at 3 3 AAS ar) Fringe; or, The Iron Will. By BS av'terrible i . oe _ ‘ vy Last. By Alice May Fleming. ; a 32 Mar the {ma D Ro 89 A Gilded Sin. By the author of “Dora | 151 A Wild Girl; or, Love’s Glamour, By | ’ 2 Mar Lilies = ‘ ab iin So ti 9B s PARE Thorn,” ete. Corinne Cushman. a 33 The. ‘Three biuters § or ‘The Mystery of | 2 a tyes Daughter. By Mary 152 A ia Sdertiic e§ or, At War With Sane ont By Alice 91 The Jilt. B Charles Reade. , Himself. By Harriet Irving. | 4 A Rlarringr of oaeantonees ov Was | BE Eto Ring uniae Denne ot tear. 158 Bld, Shr Std Many Dee : 86 All Against Her; or, The rinthrop Pride. | 93 rose Vic csepran By B. L. Farjeon. | 154 He Loves Me Not! or, A Cruel Fake- =r By Clara Augusta. 94 The Quict Heart, By Mrs. Oliphant. hood. By Lillian Lovejoy. -s 36 Sir Archer's Bride; or, The Queen of His 95 Lettice Arnold. By Mrs. Marsh. | 155 Winning Ways; or, Kitty Asherton's Heart. By Arabella Southworth. 96 Haunted Hearts; or, The Broken Be- Double Troth. By. Margaret’ Blount, a 37 mee, ‘ountry Cousin; or, All is not Gold trothal. By Rachel Bernhardt. i é etal baton Iba f on, CELA Pad 4 litters. By Rose Kennedy. | 97 Hugh Melton. By Katharine King. 1 ag: Aeaietiie Gouthiworthn, rooke: Ms. Pras 38° His Own Agua a or, Trust Her Not. By | 9g Alice Learmont. By Miss Mulock. y : = 39. Flirtatic vty ire Young Girl’s Good Name. | 9 as oe ha Bruce’s Lovers. By Mary | 157 A Girls Heart. 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Robinson. 163 The Creole Cousins; or, False as Fair, By Arabella Southworth. 108 The Sad Fortunes of the Rev. Amos | By Philip 8. Warne. —«4G The Little Mieiress; or, Under a Cloud. Rarton. By George Eliot. | 164 A’ Seathing Or a eal; or, May Langley's peiaus Mary S Denia ‘or, How Will | 109 Bresdueec heese and Kisses, By Mad Marriage. By Mrs. Georgiana Dickens. ay Mie wad! By Alice ene. ; cot. 110 The Wandering Heir, By Charles | 165 A. eireae Sy apeNe™ Bnsland ‘Lore 48 In Spite of Herself; or, Jeann pa- | ie ration, By 8. R Sherwood. 411 Phe Brother’s Bet; or, Within six | 166 A Man’s Sin. By Rett Winwood. ; 49 eo Let art a yg tt a at First | | Weeks By a io Fiveare at Carlen. 167 The Hand of Fate; or, The Wreck of y /112 A Hero. By Two Lives. By Ara uthworth, Mi be whe ihe Cuban et BPS piecior of | | 118 Paul and Virginis inia. oc rrom the French of | 1 65 quyo Fair Women, By Wm. M. Turner. 5 e 51 Two Voting Girls; or, The Bride of an | 114 "rwas In Trafalgar’s Bay. By Wal- A new teaue every week. monies Grow ig det | 7 tg er ¢ Killeena By William | ge W. L for sale by all N !415 Th a o ° } AVERLEY Liprary is for s ya ewr- §2 bas oer VE cong + as SO oe ee All! | 1 eA oe a sical deal five cents a copy, or sent by mail on re * 116 inecty. y Henry Kingsley. -ceipt of six cents each. oy \ 5s ngnes "ane Actress; or, The Ro- | , a: or, The Raid of BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pnblishers. 2 comets MM. ». ‘s Buby rij nail Mecorebane (2 | se omen iE h fiman. WS. William street, New York. v ‘ : ba ~ ’ P ‘ ‘ = 2 - ~ A a