Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 174) (1883 03 13)
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Cheapest and Best Library! The (ream of American and Foreign Novels tor Five Cents! “CS ssi WX \ I AG OHS Sa 3- he —SSS= i) /:)} i) } " ee ee se n ‘ \ 4 ‘ ifr } ail / 7 Wh iy) / 4 Ne KAN aa CULE BACK TO BED WITH HER, IN HER SLEEP SHE HAD GOTTEN UP, OPENED AND CLOSED THE BOX, AND CARRIED THE TORN ENVELOPE
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The Pretty Puritan; The Mystery of the the Torn Envelope. BY “A PARSON'S: DAUGHTER.” CHAPTER L . THE TORN ENVELOPE. An Au morning had dawned so pleasan ‘and rarely cool, that most of the visitors a Wilde Manor had availed themselves of it, to ‘walk or ride, leaving the occ at of the luxu- rious, wind-swept parlor to ilde and her favorite young lady guest—Agnes Gardiner. The well-preserved, stylish elder lady skim- med lightly through a new novel, while her compapion, a handsome girl, dressed in a dainty morning-~dress of lavender tinted organdy that well became the clear, exquisite pallor of her complexion, assorted some bright silks, with which she was embroidering. Presently the delicious quis was broken by the entrance of a servant. *¢-Your letters, Mrs. Wilde, and two for Miss Gardiner.” “Thanks,” smiled deftly . clipping the ends of the envelopes with her Httle embroide il m mamma; that is odd! one is from Rachel!” and the young med a. letter O Pifeadow C * Den- “4 oe daughte Rachel Wallbrid and Agnes Gardiner had | been chums through an entire co ae course at uation, Miss Wallbridge had on “Raehel’s egg sein a Mr. ysson. After + wedding tour, Mr. and Mrs. Lysson had diately settled in Denver, and t frindds had not met since. This letter announced that the Lyssons were going to Europe, for a stay of several years, and that, on t eir w sia: Page from the West they es oe ae nigh re in New York, Agnes to be them there, awe Bet ae, said hanes, whien both ladies finished reading their correspondence, “I wish to go to town immediately; can a carriage take me to the next train?” Of course, my dear; I will ring for James, and you can send whatever order you wish to the stables; but are you sure you really must go? Ifiti ig business, can you not rong ap “It is not business entirely, though mamma ‘me to transact a little for her: but my | old Vassar chum, Rachel Lysson, is ip town, preparatory to starting for Hurope. She is to stay abroad some years, and as I have not seen her since her marriage, I desire to spend a ers or two with her.” Oh, my dear!” cried Mrs. Wilde, in con- sterna ion, “ for-how long do you mean to leave us?” «Only until pycapesday, night,” laughed Miss Gardiner. “This letter is somewhat late in reaching me, as it was sent fo Meadow mtn 2h and I find that the Lyssons arrive in town t mel and sail pe re I su, ave re you,” lied Mrs. ilde, with assumed Taio re- | is mignation ox hope’ you will enjoy yourself; my “Thank you,” laughed A she hastened | com away, to ’ ) hee pin bn Bar for the journey taking her place in trimmings or jetty cane that the wearer so well knew set. ay rfect-sculptured beauty of her oe facet en from dust and cinders under folds e blue (re a knot of pansies at her Pei a new on the cushions, and the most faultless rg a kid gloves hiding the whiteness but not the shapeliness of her fine hands, Mr. Van Alst and Rodwell came up from their walk to the village. “Not going away Miss Gardiner, surely?’ ‘htly answered Agnes. called Mr. Van Als should exercise my “ Only for two days" “Or you may be gayly ly added Mrs. bak bores -power, upon the lowest step of the fiche that formed tho imposing entra “i river-home. ets da st” ec Patt _ he “Only 4 a or Soe and leaned upon geet * You say it aa joyously as ‘if or not aa BA were leaving us all inconsolable, 3 1,” Oh! my conscience. is 5 te easy..on. that ' geore, Mr. Van Alst, and Wilde will ex- lain my abrupt departure.. If [ catch this I must h away, SO -by to you all ~good-by, Mrs. ilde.” . Good-by, dear, and be sure to, get back by Woadnesday. * And will you not give me those parisies—0F | one, only one, to cherish until your return?” begged Mr. Van Alst, softly, as the driver gave the ribbons to the restless horses. Miss Gardiner smiled, one of her superb, daz- zling smiles, but she colored a trifle, too, despite the thoroughness with which she was accustomed to hold her emotions in hand, as she tore the pan- sies away from her belt and gave them to the plesders then the carriage whirled them apart; ut all the time that it hurried her to the depot, and all the time the train was steaming along the river banks toward the hot and dusty me- tropolis, she was rege es} of, or trying not to think of, Carl Van Alst’s last words; for the man had come nearer "to winning her love than any other she had ever known; and she believed that. he loved her; and she was, not unused to men’s flatteries, either. It was after two o’clock when Miss Gardiner arrived at the Grand Central Deg and took a carriage direct to the hotel on Union where, with her mother, she was in the habit o spending the winter months. There she was immediately shown to a pleasant room, over- _loeking the park: and after dispatching % a note —announcing her arrival—to Mrs, Lysson, who was to stop with some distant relatives of her husband’s, she proceeded to unpack her sachel oul ut the contents “arawer the rene As she open upper Pe ouse to see if a ish t had ney ee Soked away in its corners by the latest occupants of the room; for the apartment was one ordinarily “used for transient guests. There was only a ah dom or two, and a eee ope, bearing the : ‘* Mrs. Buse P ss Gites Ho vern Hoel, Agnes commenced transferring her tra m the sachel into the drawer, and meanwhile fell to idly wondering where the Southern Hotel w: was and why the letter to Mrs. Elise P. Chandor h not been addressed to the hotel where she evi- dently had stop Then she thought she might not have read the name aright, and so glanced at the envelope again. This time she noticed the postmark—it was St. Louis, Mo., April 22, 9 A.M. So this Southern Hotel was in St. Louis. Agnes tossed ‘the Pa r into one of the side- boxes upon the to the bureau, and, her ar- ; pai: Sa comp. sted, went down to order her lune It was a most elegant young woman—lissom and seductively grace er every move- mont, with an entail -molded figure, the voluptuous outlines of which no costume could conceal—who walked into the almost deserted pe ggen Peer and ordered her pene luncheon of cold chicken, potatoes a la toga, iced and pitted olives, creamy ale, and Charlotte ee: ak oe filigree oe of dead ellow and turquoise, clasped her w: z Ton a eda of the same banded the silk an lisse plaiting at her throat; the delicate blue of the ge Se ~ the lossy black silk costume con- compos finely wi t colorless purity of lexion that was one of the beautiful ss hief charms. Then her hair—in its nce the envy of all her friends —Aa pes tee brown, 5. Ae g toward : eee was excessively beco’ the way she it—turned from one aie’ to the other over a high > S wich as braids at the back fast- cued low. Her face was a perfect oval, with clear-cut, high-bred features: almost h dark line of brow; deep violet eyes—eyes t. held a cage Se expressions under their darkenin ping hes; a delicate nose, with tains a0 n that spoke swiftly eve shade of: pride, or disdain, or anger, that ruf- fled the Phe soul; a beautiful chin, and a scar- let mout’ bow-shaped, with thin lips feurving over faultless teoth—a mouth ordinaril y rather mobile and yielding, but with lines about it that could settle into a still immutableness. Miss Gardiner had ‘finished the substantial part of her gene mags and sat idly segnemne 2 ile of . downy in that Krom: ¢| dreamy, Aaa telling. stabe cf ‘ealsid ‘whidh “4 pie? me es perfect rest and a knowledge of time to wondering —— was _ most luscious ine ‘PRETTY PURITAN, Lah Van Alls, ll | of al the pil —— merearS > worthy her tastin; Fost ana tae and to select the omest a a gio Saver -. pret her and upon ‘ita note, which { , night—only Mr. Lysson’s cousins, bes this, a “My Dartine AGNES “Your note just received, and if Mtr, sson were here, he would go for yo ut though I expect his return momently, I cannot wait, so rt @ carriage must dine with us and join our wih r-party to- ides ourse: Your own “ RacHEL,” Agnes ste her peaches, and donning her hat | rode away to meet her friend. It was late when the returned her to Come as soon as you get her room, locked the door, disrobed b of the lamps in the square, wound to watch ket-book under her pil and almost immediately her hotel that night, and she went v the light ‘ht and put if and her low, and went to | to sleep. Before sunrise the noises in the equare awoke | Miss Gardiner, floating upward, through the open window, to ears accustomed to country quiet. but the horizon above the piles of stone and brick reflected rosily the ruddy eastern sky, and she up under a momentary impres- pers canto the hour was later. The motion was ny a tremor of pa along her right arm, Le wont he crisp rustlin r over ch her right hand was clenc oa} 60 tightly as to have become positively numb. ‘sf C) From where had the come? d read: sti Thoroughly aroused rung from bed and opened the bureau-box tata which she had thrown this envelope the previous afternoon. The lid had been closed upon emptiness, In her astonishment she tried the lock of her rh and examined her watch and pocket-book, to be sure that her room had not been entered during the night, Evidently she had been its undisturbed possessor, and she could entertain but one theory concerning this peculiar incident. In her sleep she had gotten up, opened and closed the beat and carried the torn envelope back to bed with her, and all without awakening; yet, she mi never been known to talk or wall: in‘her slee: Wie eran the pelailland at was the about this bit of per that had affected her SE soar Bp ot - bits of a lifetime and with a power that con- } pag the lethargy of deep slumber? ‘This wag the question that Gardiner asked herse again and , as she returned to bed; an that effec y drove away further sleep. CHAPTER II. A THREAD OF A MYSTERY. Tax second day of Agnes’s renewed ssi tion with her former friend was spent in round of sight-seeing ; and with visits to leries and museums, and bustle of driv. place to place, the incident of ‘the morning oe er mind, Mr. and Mrs. Lysson returned to her hotel, to dine with her before : the evenin one of Thomas's inimitable garden concer as Rachel in CYS were) stood in Agn pe aude the incident of “i enve og Miss Gardiner ei, se ai soft igily lightly w her forehedd— iy Bi pn, th and perce = “T did t I will tell you — <4 ot may ourionity I'm os ter of awaken my ~ : oo smother responded eae laugh- n, i Kot now, because the incident has a trifling psychological interest, and I mean to ask your usband’s ion conce it.” “And not mine! What an implied compli- ment to m chological endowments.” “Don’t P Jealous of ‘gh Lect ged high opinion of your husband, ee Agnes, putting her arm ‘within’ “Rachels the fore went down tothe cosey, blue-satin Neg bi the parlor, where Eric ane awaited ey stood lau; and cha ere ee sought tho dime 4 dining-room; ome pe pedi and the scarlet glow sallow cheeks, so or 2: ena of the years past, w at a@ moment nt pe Sperisio: = y Pema they had I 1 4
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ae me. = 4 ri : | bos “wy hp om :* 1 ; eee Xe ea : ‘ ’ ae ‘ ; enh; ro 4 7 “ 4 .*) = ¥ ed ry i a7" —" tar. L. * i | - ; ok WT E Ghigo, hast F, ; A 4 ' NA zi THE PRETTY PURIT: roe a TL ea been daily associates, that-A gnes exclaimed, en- —$$—— - thusiastically: ? “ Rachel, I believe you grow handsomer and younger all the time! Mr. Lysson must have religiously protected you from every shade of trouble to have kept you so like your old self. I feel.as if you, rather than I, must be the youn- ger ofthe two.” Rachel gave a little start, the color in her cheeks lessened; her eyes fell, and ber: husband answered for her, while Agnes: mentally chas- tised herself for having made a stupid:speech. ‘‘No trouble that I can avert ever comes near Rachel, you may be sure, Miss Agnes; but not much can ever have come near you, that you should intimate that.you feel like anything but a most beautiful and youthful woman.” “Oh, please do not quite overwhelm me, Mr. LLysson!” Agnes lightly responded. ‘‘I shall be twenty-two early next ene = No very terri- ble age, I admit, though it almost seems so to me! As to trouble—well, we are not quite as rich as I would like to be,” “* Certainly an evil that it isin your power, if in any one’s, to remedy; at least, if your heart is a well-tutored one, as becomes the age in which we live,” retorted Mr. Lysson, as he took the ladies in to dinner. Rachel had quite recovered her color and ‘her verve by the time their Poo was established in the coolest corner of dining-salon, and an obsequious waiter was taking the order for the choicest of dinners; and she made no delay in gayly demanding a fulfillmentof Agnes’s prom- ixe to tell of ‘the something funny” she had done that morning. . ‘“ What, is. Miss Agnes going to regale us with a story?” * Yes, a story, Eric! Concerning some of her own doings, too, It is sure to be entertaining, a0 pa your very best attention.” “Oh, pray let us save it, to hear over the wal- nuts sale the wine.” ‘Now, Rachel, I am almost inclined to say I shall not tell you the incident, it will appear so absurd a @ after such a prefatory notice; only my kindness of heart es no take pity on fa you confessed to have inherited d e, and [ will mitigate your sen- tence to the easier ty of waiting, as Mr. Lysson suggests, until dessert.” “ Two against one,” —— Mr. Lisson. “My dear, we shall certainly have to save the story to enjoy with our—fruit, since we cannot have the ‘ walnuts’ Tennyson sings.” ‘*Oh, well, as there is no choice left me, I'll make @ virtue of necessity, and submit with ood ef i? ene hich will be aided in a t degree by turtle soup and fish boiled in wine,” cried Miss Gardiner, gayly. ‘‘I remember what a gow mande you used,to be, Rachel, concerning fish boiled in wine, or served with winesauce. Don’t you know that we used always to order that when we spent a holiday in town?” 7 “ Indeed, I remember; byt I took it as brain- food—always! ‘You haven't forgotten how we to pass our plates up. for-brains, on fish day at Vassar?” sallow tinge. Even ly startled. sg t is it? What is the matter?” cried Agnes. % My dear Miss Gardiner, do not. be alarmed. You have, perhaps, all unintentionally, put into our hands the lost thread of a terrible ee» and. in doing this you have inadvertently touched a wound which is yet sorely sensitive, I see that it is time we were starting for ptr Rachel, love, do you feel quite like going Rachel assented, mechanically; and as the party arose from tiie table, Ma Lysson said: *“?) morrow, Miss Agnes, if you will allow me, | . Jl look at that envelope and make some inqui: « concerning it; and perhaps Mrs. Lys- son will tell you something of the events it re- calls. “ All,” sadd Rachel, looking confidin, at her friend. ‘* If Agnes can aon be sure to dogo.” iss CHAPTER, ILL THE MYSTERY. THe hall was full, without being crowded; the audience was select, the orchestra at its best, and the selections delightful. Both Rachel and Agnes highly-cultivated musical tas and enjoyed to full. the charmed draught of Thomas’s exquisite music. ‘Shall we stroll into the garden for an ice a claret?” suggested Mr. Lysson, during one of the Distro oma pe Sn ladies = y care for anything else, I presume, as [I propose a drive through the park and a supper at Mount Saint Vincent when we leave here.” g upon the gentleman, the ladies fol- lowed other promenaders to the garden, and se- lected a table where they could eat an ice with- out losing the music, when it recommenced. In taking her place at the table, Agnes dropped her fan, a dainty toy of satin and pearl; a gen- tleman, Pia! rising to return tothe hall, picked it up and politely restored it to her; but one of the frail pear! sticks was broken. wy regret that the fall has broken it,” he sai “Oh, thank you, sir! I think that may be repaired.” Agnes bowed, and the gentleman moved away with his companions—a petite, le pgs faced brunette, and a fair, stately girl, wit startlingly-golden hair. Their escort was. a pri man, lookin pa pounaee crane nearly sixty years, and his face perplex ~ nes with its degen likeness to some one she had known or seen. “ Agnes,” asked Mrs, Lysson, “was that fair young lady at Vassar?” “T have no recollection of her.” ‘Her face impressed me as one that I had would not allow it. Poor little Elise! She felt very badly, but she never dreamed of anything but submission. If it had been me, 1 shoul- have packed my trunk and started, and let alge carina as the chose Meer I home! e all imposed on Elise’s yielding disposition, even 1, who loved her so dearly !” “ “You can hardly reproach yourself, Rachel,” Mr. Lysson said, gently. ‘ Weall thought that it was for the best that Elise should marry th Ota oo thougbt so. How could one tell#— indeed, how can one tell yet what we should have douse! You know nothing of the sad af- fair, Agnes; and as you never saw Elise, you cannot imagine what a tmid, gently pretty little thing she was. Father and mother were very fond of ber; but father never made asso- ciates of us girls, and mother is scarcely the Glcp iliem eecabanpean ants pun Uap dar tea ) so she was my pet, my —a most more like my child than my sister—until I veranda te ?” said ; en sympathetically. - ‘Then she was so young—not quite thirteen —that we seemed to have icentetsc wh stran Seung ta ace th lies oki tmpeo sane aieeten. e C) - ate wa , though sla had nadeehianarin as most girls have. She seemed to live en within herself. The fall after I came home she pment Thad already met Eric, and we were married that winter a settled in ‘ During the following summer Hlise visited me, and seemed so excitable and gay that we were all delighted with her spirits. a “That was at theend of her first year at cal- lege?” i ‘ Yes, during the latter part of the vacation. We had several visitors besides, purposely to ‘make it pleasant for her. Among them was a Mr, Guy Chandor—I may have mentioned him in some of my letters.” f gon “] think not; I fail to recall the name,” an- i itumee wrrestinreonl partly Eng e@was & WwW y gentleman, y Eng- lish and partly French by birth,’ conbismsed Rachel, scarcely more than trifling with the cold : qaaca ed husband had put upon her plate, ‘and very highly connected on both sidés. He was about thirty, and exceedingly fine app ing. Hric always ired him immensely,” “That was Bae owing to his manners, Miss Agnes. He was a thorough gentleman- — and among his own sex one of the most | . genial men I ever met. With ladies he was in- clined to be rather reservedly courteous.” ited: her, deen slmiiissy) hence gar aaanoles mired her from the es, an ey came excellent friends; though: the least conscious of his miration for her. Before she went away he that I would - was notin — seen; only I think I should be able to identify that glorious golden hair.” “T thought all feminines knew how easily such ‘ glorious golden hair’ might be obtained! ‘Eric! You really are too on our sex! Why be ready to believe such miserable decsits of any one until ed?—I may have seen a picture of which she reminded me.” “] think such likenesses are often merely fan- cied,” said Miss Gardiner. ‘The gentleaman’s face seemed familiar to me, yet Lam positive I have never seen him before, convey to her the offer of hand. WhenI , told her she looked quite frightened,and said © that I must not let him think of such a thing, = Though anengagement must have been a long ; one, it seemed most desirable; and 1 ae to wait awhile before really dismissing im; as ; he had said that she was to take plenty of time y to decide upon her answer. Butsheseemedso d and looked so like a frightened child, ° ™ various ca b last ices, wo voicos claimed e3’8 narration. pe too much in the : said A; “* for . tment will itiful. It was only & but such an odd for me to do that I thought I would ask your opinion of the ac t. Agnes proceeded to relate all that had eccur- ih te Di vr y associate her with the torn ‘ envelope, and by her words and manner betray- ed int in the apparently trivial affair. “Was there not something upon this that madea deep impression upon your mind?” suggested Mr. Lysson. ‘‘Something that sur- or aro your curiosity? ‘You now that the brain maintains 4 certainamount of activity, even while the body sleeps; the im- pression may have been greater than you at the time imagined, and deepened and disturbed you after the mental occupation of the ef was over and the ag hdr rest had commenced.” “Twas not surprised iu the least; nor was there anyt to arouse my curiosity, except that I wondered, in an idle way, as one will, sometimes, over things which, after all, they aro scarcely giving their real thoughts to, where the Southern Hotel was.” : “The Southern Hotel?—it is on Broadway, next to the Grand Central.” ‘‘ Not this one. It proved to bein St. Louis.” ‘“Southern Hotel, St. Louis! Was there an address?’ ’ engagements et.” “es ote d quite nt buthopedshe would | : * He seemed quite cut she het cha es by the next summer.” — _ as e >. en he was stay ere permanently ae “He went to Colorado for his health, when he 1 | was twenty-three, and became infatuated with rot srkaagmat he and a partner went into the “aif business have made a fine fortune. He nee 2 ily went to England once a year, but made ae Seaette bome, as his partner superintended = q j Rachel so,” said Agnes, indifferently dis- missing the subject. The drive to Mount Saint eo eT the sweet sansnageg and my ee * - under the ugust skies, en Au- gust ak delightful after the warmth and glitter of the concert hall. As a waiter led the party to a supper-room in the gay restaurant, that once had been the quiet | abode of Sisters of Charity, a gentleman and | two ladies passed on their way to their —the trio which had been disc at Thomas’s, ‘*T know her now!” exclaimed Mrs. a, referring to the lovely blonde, as they enter the alcove assigned them. ‘‘She is Blanche Lorrimer, and was Hlise’s chum for a year at omen Her photograph is in Elise’s album at mi * e. , “* Elise!” cried — a sudden susp fitt- yore ae cane d. ‘Elise, your little sis- bert ' j VOEES ..8. ZebpesTeeueseregs e3EF Fi 8Pe | ERE S FE 3 the ranch. Next month hevs going to his home, crossed the him?’ questioned Agnes, gently, remembering 3! in her 2 h dase bitter m Shristmas holida the Vassar was in Chicago a month th sher. Medicine seemed to do her no good, so E aed ‘““By the a, oe: ‘ \ ’ “coger = . Q J \ : “ 4 . ; Bad : er pap as i . 4 ‘ yo eg ay gy Ti ey aoe & + Seat on, : % é es ‘ ‘ ‘ ane ee “rae ay’ Sapa meee |e he ee LIEAY, P< Setalpte A e aee 3 rate. a, ar at ian lima il a ta in Oe, 4 es a AN ee ee ee
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x ry \ Luysson let his wife’s regime of a New (eee oe ree ere —_ at es eh eet a — ee ae me oe coaxed her Into comp , and madeit as gay as rogue: and she L- gan improve tm ny ben I tried to-get her to tell me what had been the cause of her low spirite; but she would not own toanything, and evidently so dreaded being alone with me ve up questioning her, Guy eame often to the house, and'she a afraid of him, too, at. first; but he was quietly persistent in his attentions, and one night, after she had twice refused him, be told us that he had at last won her consent to marry him, and desired a speedy wedding; thinking that to take her abroad would be the best thing for her health. It was arranged that he should accompany us immediately to Chicago and remain there until the wedding. That night I went to her room to congratulate her, and found her crying. And from the time of her engagement, to her marriage, she never voluntarily: referred to it, nor made any answer to congratulations.” ‘(Did you never think that Elise loved some one else “Often, at first; but she badnever mentioned the name of any gentleman she had met or ad- ‘mired; she corresponded with no one; and she told us nothing. hat was there to do but Jet matters take their course, when it seemed a de- sirable mateb, and that a sea-voyage, a tour through Europe, meeting with new uaint- ances and relatives, and the tenderness of'a de- voted husband, must be the surest cure for her “morbidness?” “We certainly ail thought, even Mr. and Mrs, Wallbridge, that ber marriage to a man like Guy Chandor wes the best thing that could hap- pen to her,” said Mr. Lysson. “ And no doubt, to a degree, you were quite n t. : BN Not I think we were all wrong,” asserted Rachel, ‘only we could not see it'then. The night of the nineteenth of April I went into ber _ late, to kiss-her good-night. She was lying upon the bed, and had been ng, - but I thought it best to take no notice, and she made no c¢ffort to detain me. The next eve- ning they were married, and started for St. Louis upon the late night train, on their way to New Orleans where Guy had some matters to settle before going North. And—we have never seen her—since!” isha Rachel’s forced quiet gave way, and she cried softly; and, though Mies Gardiner’s calm, sym- hetic face gave no sign of the curiosity she elt to know the conclusion of their history, Mr. | rief have its way, and | vely told the last there was to tell concern- g the tragedy which, after being enveloped in impenetrable mystery for more than a yeer, a again suddenly stirred the current of their ives, : “Immediately they breakfasted, the morning of their arrival in St. Louis, Guy went out to, attend to some business that would detain him until dinver-time, and left Elise to rest, as they bad spent the night in journeying, and she was thoroughly in need of quiet and sleep after the | noise and eness of carriages and cars, Soon after his departure a letter came, by post, to Mrs. Elise P. Chandor, ond a servant deliver- ed it to her in person. When Guy returned Elise was not in the hotel; nor have her bus- band and friends had the slightest clew to her since that morning, April 22d, over fifteen CHAPTER TV. AT HOME AND AT VASSAR, THovax the ter portion of their lives had been t in cago, one of the gayest and Jute of American cities, Rachel and most Elise Wallbridge had been as strictly reared as | if brought up under the ancient and Puritan | England home. . Wallbridge had come from the sternest of | Puritan stock. He was devoted to business, un- | .. bending in will, and severe in his Christianity ; | “aman of brains and conscience rather than a -man of heart. - married the rather giddy daughter of a well-to- | .do New Yorker. But he was not the man to Somewhat late in life he had be changed in any mental or moral degree by | g Mrs, Wallbridge soon learned that she must conform her life and views entirely to her hus- | band’s, and ily settled into a recluse, a | a ptic, and a devotee; the latter two condi-— tions often being the accompaniments one of | the oe el Chronic invalidism and religious | fena developed a naturally peevish and fre:ful disposition, and under this and her. bueuted ideas of duty and self-denial, she hid | all show of tenderness and heartfelt emotion. >». 3 And while-she took scrupuleus care of her a world of strangers, it is doubtful whether ‘, x a, ' \ + ey ‘THE PRETTY PURIT | that “this |. while inhabiting this terrestrial globe, we could ' oo ™ . ol 7 = - \ : eae daughters’ physical and spiritual well-being, she entirel ir men we 9 neg hoted theiyenotionn! and ait @ natures, bat The Walibridges lived in a handsome house finely situated and comfortably furnished, bud affected no style, and the plainest li oe was insisted upon by Mr. bridge, Nor was this beaause he was niggardly concerning the wealth he had accumulated: he gave large sums in charities—even in charities that were never published; he spared no expense in educati musio—their chief recreation and comfort—was indulged to any monetary extent; but he believed that money expended on fashion, show, or worldly amusements was money w teous- ly used; and he allowed no parties nor gayeties in his house, neither did he countenance any by letting his daughters attend them. Rachel, inheriting much of her father’s un- fagonit wili, made no secret of her utter an- without any traces of elegance or rig a | an nism to his views; but Elise was of quitea erent disposition. UClingin and affectionate, but excessively shy and sensitive, hers was a nature to develop naturally only in an atmos- ere of boundless lové and tenderest ey or eae ear by year, she become reticent a f-con- tain reoner gent obeying all and accepting all beliefs she was told were right, without a word of dissent or an expression that infiquncnapenpeclaligsisbs tevtopenictiods Walther nfluences, y mperamen ‘her mother, tended to repel rather than to invite her confidence; and so, used to living within herself, and wore ieee outward observances to any strong will that came in contact with her own, while she cherished no firm inward faith, Elise ig i Z \ A, a r\ rey get ‘ t his daughters, and their love for | Wallbridge lacked all those safe-guards that are a most girls when surrounded by m0 ptation. Rachel Wallbridge was nineteen when she came home at the end of her third school year. and found the little sister she had left a child grown a rarely graceful young woman. “Why, Elise, pet, you change so each year I dazed, and scarcely can realize it is you. ma, here are four k one for each quarter year Lhavebeen away. Ihope you are well, and ho w is papa?’ “ Your father a very weil, Rachel; he always and I am naar «se go order | some luncheon for Rachel; it is too long for her | to wait until dinner.” | As Elise vanished from the room, Mrs. Wall- ; resumed: am rised, Rachel, at your want of — sister she is beautiful; | grievous sin. | “T have endeavored to do ee according to my light,” said Mrs. Wallbridge, | severely. “I am sure you cannot complain ou have lacked excellent Christian and | m training. This life is of little account, | -and my desire has been to fit you for the life to } com 2. “Oh, that is all very well, mamma,” returned | Rachel, calmly, but with knitted brows, ‘if | you choose to believe it; but most young people will be so perverse as to take a little interest in | present life! And since Elise and { are of the wicked generation who desire to Le happy have dispensed with quite so much religious training. 1 cannot honestly say that I am greatly the better for it; and-as for Elise, the child’s nature is so frozen, that no one knows what underlies the submissive surface of her life. | I only hope that the excessive care you have be- | stowed upon one side of our natures, and the utter neglect with which you have treated the | other, will not result in any evil to Elise which will call for bitter repentance,” Surprised at this treason to tradition and pa- rental wisdom, Mrs. Wallbridge expressed that surprise in her usual fretful way; but she wasa rson with too supreme a belief in the infalli- | ility of her own theories and acts to long re- member this reproachful outbreak. So that | when a year later, Elise—# dreamy, flower- | fair girl—went from the chill atmosphere of her home to lead her unprotected life in fis Ay ie Ta ee as eae Sg peat ees age ; z | with one o her dainty bhtshes. y ie 5 Li : by i f AN. — eee ee ante atte e — or sister recalled Rachel's prophetic wo: _ Elise Wallbridge’s first room-mate at college , a beautiful blonde gir} we shall get on nicely together, and like each other immensely,” pact fe avowal to , the little Western girl, during the first half-hour her older and statelier companion. : “Why, you little flatterer! What pretty con:- mts you pay! Do you really believe that | you can tolerate my presence and even like mo, Miss Wallbridget” “Why noth eaid Elise, smiling. ‘‘ They are all strangers to me here, and you seem very nice. Why should we not be friends? Iam sure,” she added, hesitatingly, “one could not help admiring you.” lanche crossed the room and stole her arm about Elise’s waist, and stood looking out upon the lovely surroundings of their new home and chatting ecm ee | with her upon topics of mutual interest until they felt quite acquainted and satisfied with each er. Elise was pas- sionately fond of the beautiful; and though it had been a repressed sensibility it had become so potent a power in her nature that it could influence her more surely than any religious doctrine or moral law; unfortunately this trait, like all the best ones of her character, was wholly uncultured and ungoverned. However, in its effect u her liking for Blanche Lorri- mer, it seemed likely to do her little harm. Miss Lorrimer, though fashionable and worldly, was a fair sample of a self-respecting, honorable American girl. But it was that Sanche was beautiful—startlingly beautiful—tall and state- ly, with a mother-of-pearl complexion—all milky whiteness and rosy flushes—eyes like the deep-blue when it smiles forth from storm- clouds that have hidden it and a mass of vivid- ly-golden hair—that she made so easy a conquest of Elise’s preferences. With Miss Lorrimer Elise felt more at ease than with any eset fer f she had known, ex- cepting her sister hel. She was conscious. ‘| that in her room-mate she had found an asso- ciate who would neither exact nor repel her confidence, and who would thrust upon her no views, as views that she must confess to ht | and as her own. And though the frie i that ripened betweon the two was not at all o the confidential kind that had ‘so endeared to each other Rachel Wallbridge and Agnes Gar diner, they, nevertheless, liked each other's so- ciety, and were deemed somewhat exclusive by the other collegians. CHAPTER V. THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS, AND A NEW YEAR. ‘Ir was nearty the Christmas holidays, and late in the December afternoon. e les were down in their pretty room, and the ga flung a cheerful glare of light over ey tape ornar se sat oe an so olio, while Blanche a letter. into its Miss Lorrimer it hitto Salen n env a satin-wood dak paid interrupted her oeenpetiin with a startling proposition. “Elise, after you finish you writing, I want ‘ou to pack your trunk and get to ome wil “Go home with yout t would papa and mamma say?” . “Never mind what they would say, for itis too late to write and get their decision, and you , must make your own. Do you care to ‘iad ) “T should enjoy it very much. I have dread- ed to stay here alone.” “Then that decides it. I have invited you, you care to go, and accept my invitation, as you have a perfect right to do, I will arrange all the rest, The next night found Elise and Miss Lorrimer — in a handsome brown-stone mansion, just west of Fifth avenue, upon a fashionable street in New York, receiving the greetings of an ele- pane lady, a faded likeness of the beautiful lanche, “My darling, I am_so glad to see you! and this is your friend? I am delighted that you have consented to be bridge, and I ho hap our guest, Miss Wall- we shall be able to make you while with us,” pope r ou; I am sure you will,” said Elise, “2. > 5 eth, / 4 s o A y)~ they spent alone ther, ‘‘T am sure I not find that difficult,” ax.) | swered glancing shyly but admiringly 1; A aa Oe me, to-morrow, for the holidays.” a j { ¥ ‘ x j “4 ‘es ea
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saa reat /“Miss Wallbridge will have the room next eke Blanche, and my maid will help you > to dress for dinner. Alan will dine with _“ Who is Alan?” asked Elise, 4 trifle nervous- ly, as the girls ascended the broad stairway. _ . Heis Mr. Alan Torrence. His mother and Mr. Van Alst—my uncle by marriage, and my , ian—were sister and brother.” j ‘* And shall we meet your guardian, too?” “Oh, no; he is in Europe, with my cousin Gertrude, visiting his father, who is very old. Gertrude is delicate, and she is being treated by Some celebrated German physicians. My other cousin, who lives with us, Issalene Sanfrey, you will almost know, you haye so often heard me speak of her. We are a dreadfully mixed up set of relations, but you may et us straighten- | ed out after a time,” laughed Blanche. _ Miss Lorrimer knew well how to highten her fair beauty into the most dazzling charmfulness, #nd for this was given to affecting black cos- | tumes; but to-night she came down to dinner in @ dress of pale pink, relieved here and there b | ®@ touch of intl velvet, with wide bands of pe - ' ished black onyx srugly encircling her white ; | ; tkreat and bare arms, and a jet of aigrette shin- "612 her golden hair. _ Beside her, Elise Wallbridge looked such a timid little birdling, with her dreamy brown eyes, and her shy, sweet face, as delicate in feature and coloring as the wildfanemone when first it dares the caresses of April winds and then faintly blushes at their tumultuous kisses. he wore a dress cut high at the throat, with Jong sleeves, and plainly made; but it was of . silk of that indescribable shade which is neither | slate, nor drab, nor gray, nor lavender, but par- takes of the color of cach, with a faint rosy Jjémour warming its sedateness; and it was re- | teved by a belt ribbon, and a cluster of loops at ihe throat, of rich, deep pink. Her rippling fair ‘Jrown bair wasccmbed to show the entire shape ? oat \ —. »_ -. f . Th: a ae Res all possible enjoyment into the Christmas vaca- tions, Elise’s first evening in this new gay world almost like a sweet dream. But later in e evening Alan remarked to Blanche: “And will your friend join in all your pro- posed ammusements? She seems an uninitiated, artless little thing.” “Oh, she has been: brought up a regu little Puritan! But she so few Lona ge sc les concerning engaging in gayety, agine: At all pecan gm pe my se that she will acquiesce in all our plans, and enjoy the nov- elty.” then crossing to Elise: “‘I am coming to take you young ladies to drive to-morrow morning.” The girl glanced up, but did not speak. ‘Your face tells me you are glad,” he said, bending over her and speaking low. ‘‘ You pay mea great compliment. I wish I could tha you enough. -night, again, and the pleas- antest dreams to you. An now, vouchsafe to me one more glance of those sweet, tru eyes. Flushing to an exquisite hue, Elise raised her innocent eyes, momently, to the handsome ones Good-night, Miss Wallbridge,” Alan said, | above her, and then let them shyly droop, quite » unconscious that she had looked into the eyes of the man who was to influence her future life, for its all of good or evil. CHAPTER VI. THE LITTLE PURITAN. WHEN the young ladies awoke the next morn- ing they found that a heavy snow had fallen during the night. Indeed, it was still snowing when they gathered in the pretty breakfast- room, where Mrs. Lorrimer awaited them, seat- ed before a blazing grate fire, her feet upon a hassock, reading the morning paper, from which she glanced to greet them cheerily. ‘‘(Good-morning, young ladies. I hope you rested well, my dear?’ to Elise. ‘‘Oh, very; thank you!” ‘* And we’re quite ready for breakfast, mam- ma, so please put aside your paper. You know the proverbial appetites of boarding-school girls must be thoroughly appeased when they are at home. ‘““Well, [hope yours will be this morning,” said Mrs. Lorrimer, smiling, as in answer to the bell she touched a servant brought in chocolate, and muffins, and savory steaks of venison smok- ing in the midst ef quivering ruby mounds of currant-jelly, and crisp —- and golden omelsatte; ‘‘for Alan will here at eleven, to take you all for a sleigh-ride.” ‘* How glorious!” exclaimed Issalene. “ And it is ten o’clock now,” said Blanche, ‘Mamma, you do. not mean to say that Alan has been here before ten o’clock! at could have aroused him to such unwonted energy?” ‘‘The prospect of a sleigh-ride with three oung ladies! Is not that enough?’ asked Issa- ene. ‘He is not given to crucifying his love of ease for any woman,” said Blanche, dryly, who was fond enough, in her way, of Alan; but not at all oblivious to bis faults. ‘*T am sure you need not call him indolent, He isno more so than any wealthy young so ciety man,” cried Issalene, a trifie hotly. 4 vg t is you who have called him that, my ear “And you forget that Miss Wallbridge is a new-comer,” continued Issalene. ‘‘ Perhaps she is the attraction.” ; ‘ Blanche turned toward her mother smiling; it was so ridiculous to think of little Elise being an attraction to handsome, courted Alan Tor- rence. But, Elise was not smiling; she had caught the look that had been in Issalene’s eyes | as she uttered those last words, and it had thrill- ed her with fear and a surety that undex Miss Sanfrey’s seeming friendliness was a nature not quite as pleasant. young Cuban bated every woman who won a smile from Alan Torrence; that she had loved him with an impetuous passion—a passion that not one of the family, not Alan himself, had suspected—since, as a little home-sick child, grieving for the Southern home and fond par- ents she had left—she had come among her She could not know that the | Northern relatives, to receive her education. “ Alan sent a note, my dears,” said Mrs, Lor- | rimer. ‘‘ He says you are to wrapup well. It is a cold snow, promising to last some days.” ‘*So much the better,” said Blanche, ‘‘ we may have sleighing all the holidays.” The girls hastened to their rooms from the breakfast-table, and were’soon arrayed in thick costumes and abundant furs, Issalene chose to hide her dusky hair and wray.ber throat in a | being rapidly drawn toward | the party were to enjoy a “regular sleigh-ride asked Alan. fluffy shaw] of scarlef wool, from which ny frame-work her brilliant dark face gleamed a witching portrait of some nog | maid; and. Blanche followed suit by using owny. white wrap, with dainty blue ribbons adorning it in defiance of the crystals falling thick outside. Elise wore a boa and hat of seal-skin, the rick dark brown setting off her shy, little fair face; but Blanche made her take a soft white bur- noose, to throw over head and ears in case the storm did not soon cease, or the ride prove very cold one, They reached the lower hall- wa sid as the sleigh was drawn upto the door, and our prancing horses stamped down the soft snow and shook a shower of music from \ their glittering bells. : “‘Tshall bring them home in time for dinner and the theater,” cried Alan. i,* “‘ And ask Mr. Arslan and Mr. Jaffrey to dine a with us,” returned Mrs. Lorrimen, as she watch- oe ar merry party getting their places in the eigh. Before Elise had half-decided which gentle- man was Mr. Jaffrey and which Mr. Arslan, so gay and — had been the greeting and intro- uctions, she found herself by Alan Torrence’s side, upon the center seat of the sleigh and al- most buried under a pile of furry robes. The horses swung round upon Fifth avenue, and in an instant more they were flying through the white city to a clear sweet chorus of bells, with ringing echoes floating far up and. down the avenue and along many a, side street, and a cloud of crystals whirling wildly about. ' ¥ But, what was the wind and the snow to three . gay girls and three gallant cavaliers, not one of whom had ever been calied upon to buffet a storm save for pleasure, nor had ever known a real tes sorrow upon the pathway of life? Elise, cer- ‘ tainly, never gave a thougat to the rude _ blasts that caused her cheeks to bloom ruddily, nor to the fine cutting flakes that flew in her face and wdered trv her furs. She scarcely heeded + lanche’s entrea that she would wrap herself “4 in the burnoose; but Alan did it for her, in his : graceful, tender fashion, bringing his face so } near to bh as he wound the wrap about her ; sboulders, that she could feel his warm breath flutter bs eae her cheek; at which her pulses throbbed so hotly that she could scarcely answer his next words without a telltale tremor in her voice. rae That ride—dashing —— the park, up the ce wide boulevard, and along the road to hin : r —was to Elise a season of ecstasy. Issalene with her escort wasin front of them, Blanche and Mr, © Jaffrey back; AJan and Elise were left quite ta themselves, and never once gave thought aught but each other. an Torrence had received a superior educae tion, was a fastidious reader and a brilliant cone versationalist ; moreover, he was a thorough mam — of the world, versed in its intrigues, conversan® with human nature; an insouciant, irretigious man, but polished and fatally tender in his mane; ners toward women. And man, who h been courted by many belles and worshiped by a score of alder women, whose passion he: had flamed while it amused him, and mocked at when it wearied him, was the: aged who — was to awaken the sleeping soul of this Western maiden, ; He pointed out to her the finest landscapes; his words made pictures of a bit of broken fence 2 or a dilapidated cottage; he talked of books, am to her dream-life, he sympathized with her ro- fa mance, played upon her passionate love of beauty; i fact, bared the hitherto sealed book — of her fancies and passion, and made himself her nature’s master. ' Not that Alan accomplished all this during that one drive; but when Elise’s tarry in the’ pay life he helped to make for her was ended, e and poems, and paintings, and made Eliza talk * of Cipich go, of Vassar, of her music, her studies, mes. herself. He discovered the charmed entrance =| -knew that she was—in soul and love—com- pletely his; he knew, too, that if he had yeb | ever known love, he loved the little Puritan. And the * ro mga of the end” commenced BA: under storm-filled skies, in a gorgeous sleigh, onkers, where dinner.” The ladies, for all the excitement and fun of a drive in a snow-storm, were quite ya ready to luxuriate in the cosey warmth of the an hotel parlor. By the time they had put off their wraps and arranged their toilets, the tlemen joined them, and Issalere commence t a lively waltz, to which Blanche and her escort were speedily dancing. eet eae “Will not you faver me, Miss Wallbridge?” i \ . 5 Ov, no, please,” Hiise answered, shrinking”
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/ , oe heck. “Tave never danced except occasion- ally wits some school-girl.” | ‘And am I to be treated thus cavalier] - ‘canse, ’m not a school-girl?’ laughed Alan. hes “You are too much of a fairy not to waltz be nicely, whether you have danced often or sel- £4 dom, Tassure you I know. Come and try.” And. Elise could not resist the gentle pressure | of the pleader’s firm hand, nor the eyes that | said so much more than bis lips. She gave rate close |) self up to his arms—to an unnecessarily ay clasp—and found waltzing with Alan Torrence Gan was an added drop in the draught of bliss he bed - was holding to her lips. eat, With change of partners, and change of mu- sicians, the summoned the party to a well-laid dinner ina small private parlor, to which the hungry ri- ders did ample justice. It was four o’clock when the party left Yonkers—the storm was over and the day ending ina gorgeous sunset. 8 “Think! this is Christmas Eve!” cried Issa- _ ‘Tene. . * How are we to spend it?” ARS ‘* At the Fifth Avenue; I have a box en- gaged," answered Torrence. ‘‘ Do you like the theater?” he asked, turning to Elise. “T have never been.” ‘Little Puritan!” he said, lightly, recalling Miss Lorrimer’s words, Elise’s soft eyes.threw a swift glance upward, eapite the caressing tone of his voice. Hs erenes rps look; FA nN was a pet name, if you will pardon m presumption in daring to say so. I was think ie? re how sweet and nk you were, and how =i “yee ightful your confession was, for it affords me _. the opportunity to open the doors of untried de- {y - lights to you.” % > “Then you think I will go?” said Elise, with a pretty touch of archness. “YT amsure you will. You are too kind will. toy make me ear gs Elise blushed and smiled and drooped ‘her pretty face. While Blanche Lorrimer, and even Issalene Sanfrey, were wholly used to such compliments and could accept them with brilliant repartee _ Elise Wallbridge could only sit and flush an tremble under the all they meant toher. Ah! this Christmas-tide she was to drink deeply of _ the cup of love, little dreaming how deadly was the draught. _ The days fled—each crowded with some new ah ia itl peers AS ~ excitement—from mas Eve to the night afte r New Year, the time for farewells. On the morrow Blanche and Elise would return to Vas- sar, and a brilliant, informal little party had gathered to spend the evening with them. ; The latter part of itfound Alan Torrence and Elise in the quiet of the library. _ .“Suppose we say our good-byes here,” he _ said; ‘it will be so much nicer than in the pub licity of adepot to-morrow, You will not for. get me after you are gone away?” % Forget you, Mr. Torrence!” Elise mat Fe “Oh! Ty _ With a pesP that was almost a sob. _ could not.” “Thank you for that assurance, little one. And now you will give me one kiss, to remem- ber when you have said good-by?”. e girl drew burriedly back. Ont nol § * Not one, birdie? Not one?” "No! Nol” “Tell me why, you little Puritan,” he said, laughing at her distress, Alan took her in his arms. “Because you love me, you know that you do! and shall I tell you a secret—a secret that _ only-we two may share yet awhile?’ he whis- pered, “I love you!” and he gave her scores FS tht ca instead .of the one for which he had ed, Alan’s secret was quite safe with Elise Wall- bridge. She would sooner have thought of cut- \ f ve confessed an emotion that so thrilled her soul. And when the summer vacation came, - and: Elise, en route to Chicago, spent one night _ with the Lorrimers and again met her lover, no one seperti her attachment for Aljan save the jealous At nus little Cuban. -. . ‘That. evening Alan took Blanche and Elise to ss @ goncert, but Issalene was still in the parlor eygit when they returned, “ you = ae to play i+ * c Issalene,” he said, ‘* will - ag waltz? I want tosee if Miss ee e took her seat at the piano, and - Blane oo herself into an easy-chair. Alan and whirled dreamily to the music, i Me ; ; hes Hh: Se / ; * ae ™. > 4 ra \ 4" cpa ) Y \ Fe, _ THE PRE ancing continued until a wuiter | ecause—” then, Elise burst into tears, and | ting off her hand than of writing to either of her | ents of her love; even to Rachel she could not | re oe alin a, ees ty. aks, 6) 5 ' ; ; Rey : ORG Rae Agee A his splendid face bent very near to hers, and his lips whispering from under his handsome mustache what ed a startled look into her soft brown eyes and intense flames of color into her cheeks. It seemed that they would never tire of their delicious pastime, and at last Issa- | lene ceased playing. ‘‘ Thanks, Issal Have [let you tire yourself? Walibridge, you dance admirably: but you are warm; come to the window.” They stood some minutes within the shadow of the lace curtains, softly talking, while Issa- lene passionately longed to know what they | were saying. softly toward the window, in time to hear Alan’s last-words'as he put aside the lace. ‘* Remember, you have pledged your honor te do as I wish.” The next morning Alan and Blanche went with Miss Wallbridge to the Jersey City depot, and saw her safely started on her journey to Chicago. As they drove homeward, Alan men- tioned, casually, that he thought of taking a run out of town for a day or two. That night he walked into a hotel in Phila- “een -euncbeearabeelies H rb ou received m egram, Howton ) asked of the clerk. - ‘*- Yes, Mr. Torrence; we sent a private car- wer for the lady, and she has the handsomest suit of rooms in the hotel.” ‘Thanks; then I know theroom. All right.” He hastened to an elegant parlor, ak opened and closed the door; and was greeted with a frightened little cry. “Elise, darling!” ** Oh, Alan!” CHAPTER VIL THE THREAD FOLLOWED. Tum second night of Agnes Gardiner’s visit in New York was an undisturbed one. She slept soundly and awakened late upon Wednesday morning; and as she made her toilet her she had heard the previous evening. Elise, and Agnes knew well how devotedly Rachel loved her little sister. What had become of thissister? What influ- ence had worked subtilely and surely in the morbid, weary of life, careless of any fate, at seventeen? Had she wronged her husband or been wronged by him?—For Agnes was not at all prepared to accept any man as immaculate, merely upon hearsay evidence, and this Guy Chandor might not have been wholly blameless she thought.—Had she committed some great crine, or been the victim of one? Had she left Was cause existence had unbearable? she alive or dead? | diner find an answer. She ing the case. And despite the utter lack of superstition in her nature, as she put the mu- Blanche was asleep, and the Cuban girl crept | thoughts were busily engaged with the story | hi Tn their school days, her chum had frequently spoken of | heart of the timid, sensitive girl to render her Tae Ee TTY PURITAN. (in St. Louis that she knew? | mailed there.” | | | | ready satisfi | | then, manlike, capriciously coveted his prize tale a) *y" tinier , hc ee mee Res ene SE “Yos, there was the letter,”sald Agnés. “T? she had ‘been killed, or had put an end to her own life, it seems to me almost impossible that no clew to the fact should have been discovered, while her movements and whereabouts if live ing could easily be concealed. But I should think it much more likely that she went away with some person, than that she was forcibly carried away.” ‘* Aones!” cried Rachel, in mingled anger and | reproach, “ you ae do not think that Elise voluntarily eloped! And who could have been This letter was “Rachel, dear, it seems to me that so youn and yielding a girl was just the person to be- come a victim to a man’s intrigues. If she ha loved, and her lover had been false to her, and just when it was lost to him, what easier than for him to follow her, and coax, frighten, or de- ceive a timid girl into submitting to his will?” “This is not like a man’s hand,” said Rachel, her A upon the envelope. “Ttisa disguised hatin; probably, my dear,” said Mr. Lysson. ‘Well, we must be going, Rachel. Let us that Mr. Lysson will have learned some- of importance by the time we return.” ‘““What immediate steps did Mr. Chandor take to discover Elise?” she continued, as with Ra- chel, she entered the to go on their round of errands. “He had the hotel searched, and the police and a detective notified, and sent to father and to us to know if we had'written her. He visited the railways, and telegraphed descriptions of her to all principal towns. Indeed he did everything, then and since, that could be done to obtain information and conceal the matter from unpleasant publicity. He, nor father, nor Elise, had any known enemies, and we knew perfectly all her acquaintances.” ‘What papers do you think she burned upon her weddin Tray o Might she not have had some love affair East?” ; ‘© We learned all that we could from Vassar; but her room-mate for the second was very slightly acquainted with her. e wrote to Miss Lorrimer, who had been in Europe dur- ing the early part of that year; Elise spent her first Christmas holidays with her. But she had never known of Elise receiving attentions from any gentleman, nor communicating with any one ag ei own family.” | ‘eta is, * all very strange, Agnes, though fully, as they alighted at Arnold’s, At luncheon, Mr. Lysson announced that he 4 thought the torn envelope had afforded him a | possible clew to Elise’s whereabouts, He had made a list of the persons who had occupied that: } icular room, for the last sixteen months. Guy Chandor for some other lover's sake or be- | Concerning the antecedents of some he had al- ed himself, and crossed the names from the list; others he had still to investigate; | , But to none of these questions could Miss Gar- | but, from the clerk, he had received one descrip- even could not | tion, and some news, that seemed to warrant | frame a particular theory of her own concern- | his making further search into the case. “Barly in June, a lady bearing the name of Mrs. E. P. Stanford, came here from Washing- tilated envelope into her pocket, and went down | ton, to meet her husband who expected to ar- ; to her breakfast, she fell to wondering why it had fallen to her lot to restore to Elise’s friends and husband a —— clew to the girl’s fate. Rachel and Agnes had agreed to spend the morning in attending to some trifling Sopp ne: and Miss Gardiner had hardly finishe Lyssons. 5 “If Miss Agnes will trust me with the impor- tant document now in her possession,” said Erie, “I will not detain you ladies, but make a report of my researches to you at luncheon.” “Very well, we will meet you here at one o'clock,” proposed Agnes. ‘‘I must leave town by the afternoon express, and am anxious to know, before I start, whether this bit of pare will prove of any avail in tracing Mrs, Chan- | dor’s whereabouts.” “Then po aee she is alive?” questioned Rachel, eagerly. : L i. Detnot you?” retorted Agnes, as quickly. ‘‘Why, we have thought sometimes that perhaps she was so unhappy she took her life; | or at least I think so. Of course Guy will not | believe that she was really unhappy and un- willing to marry him.” oe bt What is Mr. Chandor’s ~ wine concerning this mystery?” in uired Miss Gardiner, ve @ case; but “It is very h for a young bridegroom know what to think con i such to cling to the belief that beguiled into going out and then ab- ducted for her jewels,” answered Mr, Lysson. , her morning meal before she was joined by the~ in some way | | chel, excttedly. rive in New York from Europe the same day with her. He was a steamer late, and the lady , oceupied that room until his arrival, when they q took a larger apartment and remained here for three or four weeks. The gentleman was young, handsome, and apparently wealthy; and the em very small and fair, and had light-brown . curly hair, and scareely left her room until her husband came, having all her meals served there. You see the initials of the lady’s name ane the deseription of her are suggestive of ise. “And what has become of her?” asked Ra- “That is for me to find out, my dear. The’ gentleman told the clerk that they intended spending the summer in town, but desired to, live in vere privacy. He thinks they took a furnished house.” ‘“‘But how are you to find them out in one day, Eric?’ Rachel asked, despondingly. ; “A directory will not aid you,” said Agnes. And they are more likely to have obtained the house advertisement than through an en ” “Se Ihave thought; and acting upon a sng- gestion made by the clerk, I have already set at work ry Scie Vee oe to the pepeia nie: of to if possi Sa h rege feed. - who may have coun grees ie a ord, where they are living, my eee: notiung, ke we re~ main over for a turday steamer, or to-day
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-®ome of that perso - not o _ arrangements t6 meet you at the Grand = ie Eph the bureau drawers, I think, Is Mrs,Chandor your lost friend?” “oe Yes ” 3 : a “Then I can tell you nothing about her.” ae the envelope was in your posses- _ f sion Mies YS go stranger gave itto me! Iwhs comin ae from Washington in a drawing-room car, an a4 I think he got on at Baltimore or Philadelphia, |__ My collar came unpinned, and the pin stuck in Ba my throat; and when I went to fixit,I pulled = at a string of little carved gold beads, and broke the elastic, and they fell ali over the ‘ floor. I had worn them since I was a little = child, and wanted to save them. The gentle- _ man helped me gather them up; and he pulled a letter out of that envelope and put the heabe in it as we found them. ILasked if I might ie nat them right in it, because it was easy to fol over the end of it and carry them in my ae so he gave it tome. When I reached the hotel ae if and strung them, I threw the envelopeinthe- drawer and left it there.” i oe “Then you know nothing whatever of thea © lady whose name was upon the envelope?” uh “Of course not; only it was funny that her’ : name should have been Elise P. My name is Elise Paula, only Ialways go by the name of Paula.” “My sister’s name is Elise Prentice,” said Rachel, speaking for the first time. it “Oh, is Mrs, Chandor your sister? queried the young girl. Nib “ec es. - i 423 ““ And she is lost? How could she get lost? Wis Ps Mrs. Stanford asked, in the most interestedand =~ childlike manner. \ Sm “That is what we hardly know,” Mr. Lysson'' answered for hel. ‘She was young and y not unlike escription Fy ourself; indeed, the given me of. ou was what led usto hope that => you might be identical with Elise. She married — a Mr, Guy Chandor—” : ‘Quy Chandor!” cried Mrs. Stanford, with & violent start. : Sy ‘Yes; do yon know the gentleman?” Sines ‘Oh, no; but Ihave heard the name; itis = rather an odd one; and what did you say be- — } in came of her?” et “She went as far as St, Louis on her wedding trip, and then disappeared and has not been — a) heard of since.” by “Poor Mr. Chandor!” said the young lady, —__ pitifully, the shadow of her own sorrow return- : \ t ing to her face, ‘‘ And he does not know what Te became of his wife?’ é stat “No, nor do any of her friends. You can now imagine how anxiously we traced you, S: — ——e that the envelope directed to er n our poasession. ; “Yes; and bow ied that I know nothing about it! Do AE he ema the gentleman who ave it to me knows ‘ay, . “It seems almost impossible that he should — not; otherwise how came he by the envelope and the letter tee: — withdrew from it¢ \§ Can you describe or identify the gentleman? — “No; only that he was very handsome—ahi = so handsome! And had the sweetest smile, and = voice, and such nice manners. He had no lug~ = gage and bought New York papers—and whe
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_ ‘denly, and her eyes » about that gentleman,” she said. m derly as if she : a 3 Z j = 3 7 * 7 «2 eae 7 s wi ™ ra Shy "i eB ‘ Roi A yey a “wee ye ® = 4 oh. 22 —— = gre pe a 4 , : 3 . : > 4 a ( * orn ene en cas ea nee ele we got to Jersey City, he wanted to escort me, he said: New York was such a large city for n lady to go about in alone, all arran Tam ee Mag part of the country. ‘Then this is not your home?” ‘No. I had no home,” she said, with naive freedom, “until I married Clyde. Then we lived in several cities until he had to go to En- rope; when he came back I met him here. We to traveling. around, ohly not in this —our home—in France. Clyde is there now.” ‘¢ And he has left you all alone?” said Rachel, fn surpris>. ‘“ Yes,” said the girl, her cheeks flaming sud- darkening angrily. ‘‘He cannot help it! His ugly old father will die be- fore long, and then he will be his own master; but now he would get disinherited if he were to gay he had marri troupe! Buty,my Clyde loves me very baby!” Here a flood of tears succeeded the an- ger. ‘He has only been seems years! But wesha she added, with a sob. “ God grant it,” said Rachel, solemnly, cross- ing the room and kissing the tiny forlorn little _ women. Presently Mrs, Stanford had dried her eyes. **T am very sorry that I cannot tell you more ‘you what I have, if you think it would be of any use to you; a paper-covered novel upon which he wrote the name of the hotel where I was going and where it was situated, so that I could not get wrong, Shall I give you that?” _ Tf you would be so kind,” said Mr.'Lysson, “it might help us to identify the man.” Mrs. Stantord passed into the next room, _ ‘where a nurse in white cap and apron was pac- ing to and fro with a baby in her arms; she _ stopped to caress the infant, and soon returned ‘with the book, “T will tear off this cover and aos ean take it with you. Thegentleman had dark eyes, and brown hair, and a brown beard; and on’t think he was a very large or small man; per- haps, about like you. He looked and dressed a little like a foreigner, but he had no accent, and I couldn’t tell whether he was most ea Frenchman or an Englishman. I’m sorry that I don’t know anything more about him. It is 7 go sad about Mr. Chandor and his bride; worse | “than about Clyde and I. For, though Clyde ' has to go away from me so much, he knows that I’m always here waiting for him, and we love each other ne RE So that’s something to be hap about, if I am so lonely.” oor little girl!” said Mrs. Lysson, as ten- ad been speaking to Elise. wish I was going to be in town and I would come and see you sometimes.” ~ “Would you? You are real kind. I told Clyde when he married me, that every one would despise his wife because she’d been on the But he said that if Iwas good encugh ; sd his wife every one should think so some Sh * Only be true to your husband and WE, PRETEY PURITAN. 8 Oe | | mene to her than any other grave, irl gee ghd fhou, thyself, sayest what a gentle little a But Clyde had made | _ praper and told me what to do, and | | upon the stairs, when he brin | ble. | ean but think there must be something wrong | evil of th shall stay here until we can go to Clyde’s home | a ballad-singer from a va- | ne two weeks and it | be happy some day!” | OT | ourself, | friends she had. deserted oa as Bh aS eh ee i ores woman is Mrs. Torrence; and the man is mostly sth KL ge Iam sure thee hast never complain- ed that the waiter from the hotel made dirt the meals.” **No, it’s not the dirt, mother, nor any trou- It is that the husband is so seldom here. I about bim.” “Nay, nay, "Becca, thou shouldst not think neighbors,” “But it’s hard not to, mother, and Mrs. Tor- rence mopes and grieves so when he is away, and he is now oftener and longer away. I de- clare I would like to know more about them.” ‘Seek not to dnow others’ affairs, until they need thy help, my daughter. The little woman | told me this morning, when I met her upon the stairs and she stop to ask after my health, that shé expected er husband home to-night.” ‘‘Home!” Pale-tinted walls with gilded cor- riet | nices, pale Moquet carpets, trailed over with ea He is sorry enough to leave me and | oa few a arlands of flowers as delicately blue and as faintly pink as forget-me-nots and the woody arbutus, pale silken hangings of the inner hue of a sex-shell, and the color of turquoises, satin furniture to match in gilded framework, frosty laces, and dainty pictures, and gleaming statu- ettes, garnitured these rooms called—‘* home.” Bui if ‘‘home is where the heart is,” those rooms were growing less and less a home to The girl’s heart was always with Alan; and he was now, as Miss Smith had remarked, often and long away from her; for his affection for her was already growing cold. A man professectty sg pe and wnscrupu- lously worldly, accustomed to denying himself | Alan Torrence and Elise, “ But Tl tell no caprice that promised him passing gratifica-_ tion, Alan Torrence had indulged to the full his fancied ‘ove for the pretty little Puritan. He had bound Elise to himself with a tie that she was powerless to break, only to keep her in se- clusion, while he lived another life, quite apart from hers, daring not to betray their alliance to the world. A great poet has written: ** Alas! the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing.” And again: “*Man’s love is of man’s life a thi ‘Tis woman’s whole existence.” © Maas And Elise was rapidly verifying these truths in her personal rience, She loved Alan Torrence with all the intensity and utter self- abandonment of a morbid, girlish nature like hers, fettered by no other strong ties of affec- tion, and sustained by no fixed principles nor fervent faith; and this love, having one only object, and constituting the entire depth and circumference of her existence, was capable of suffering the most exquisite torture through the every outlet and inlet of its life. rom the first, she had ee sub- mitted to Alan. He had said that in hisown time—and as soon as practicable—he would in- troduce her among his friends ashis wife. She, herself, would see that it would be impcssible for her ever to approach her old life, and the and deceived; but in Mrs. Stanford, and you will come out allright,” | the gay social circles of New York she should said Eric, cheerily. ‘And we thank you for your kindness in seeing us.” s “Oh, it’s sine ““Tf Mr. Guy Chandor should call on - gome time,” said Eric, suddenly, ‘‘ would mind telling him just what you have told us?” 2 a Certainty not.” ois ‘ CHAPTER IX. “TOV REGINS TO SIOKEN AND DECAY.” — - THE second floor of a quiet little house in Philadelphia, consisted of a suit of rooms hand- _ gome as costly and tasteful appointments could make them. The parlor, the elegant boudoir. and the private bath-room, were marvels of 2ce compared with the old-fashioned and | akerish simplicity which marked the other | tments of the house. But then there was | - ‘mo more connection between the different suits of rooms than between their occupan ts. Mrs. Smith, a precise old Quaker widow, and | her elderly, Byres maiden daughter, owned you, | one day be the brightest star, though for the present they must live in strictest seclusion, and she must have no confidante, no magi Been no friend, no acquaintance, even, but himself; for him she must sacrifice all things! And Elise had wound her pretty arms about his neck, and nestled her curly head upon his bosom, and feasting her beauty-worshiping eyes upon Alan’s handsome face, had told him that that was an easy sacrifice to make! Ab! so it was then! Her whole existence was bound up in Alan’s, was her one source of happiness, and she desired none other; and gave never a thougbt to those who had cared for her from her infancy ; those she had cruelly wronged. Indeed, of voluntarily revealing her ey to her friends she had never dreamed. In their very midst, she had borne her secret without a thought of betrayin, it. How much less, now, could she confess to them all? Besides, what did they care whether or not she was ex a what nad become of her? she reasoned. ey had all | ORO Se 1G Se Me a ed a of business, save that she fad been taught to call him father. And she had bad no crowd of brothers and sisters to brighten her life and fill _it with tender ties. Indeed, her home had al ways held too much of stern, rigid, religious discipline, and too little of mirth, and pursuit of the beautiful, and mercy, and love, and tender confidences, for lise to. think of it longingly and re a i ) t rapturous bli lite with Alan.’ For, at first, this life was one golden dream. She was surrounded with every beauty and luxury that could be crowded into her little home; night after night she went to theater, opera and concert: and through the summer days Alan improvised many a short delightful trip to spots famous for their scenery; and al- ways, night and day, Alan’s love was’ her fail- less fountain of bliss. But, as the months went by, Alan was with her less and less, and when he was absent she could get no enjoyment from her paintings nor her statuary, her music nor her books; her heart was not in them, unless he shared them with her, but mourned ceaseless] for its mate. Morning after morning, she too her oe walk and idled away the weary days as best she could; night after night, she wept through weary hours. Then, sometimes, when. the morning found her languid and feverish, her mind would wander ig SN back to such days in childhood, when her mother’s face had worn a look of unwonted kindness and anxiety, and her hands had rested tenderly upon the lit- tle hot brow, and Rachel had stolen into the quiet room and kissed and petted her, Poor. little Elise! Only through terrible heart-bitterness, like many another erring soul, was she to learn that the paths of rectitude however hard to follow, are the only paths of peace. But Alan would come again—and with him 17. For him Elise was all sunshine and bright- eartedness; he had once told her, sternly, that he wished to hear no complaints: she must be happy and trust in him; he knew best how to live his own life, and when she could share it all with him. And so, for Alan’s sake, Elise concealed the fact that her heart was breaking; oe if he had been loving, as a husban should have been, he would have seen in the depths of her brown eyes, and by every line of the fading beauty of her face, that he vad,gar- nered this girl’s love but through it to render her life a horrible torture. June had come, and a bright sweet day, and it was to rg | Alan. Elise had not seen him since late in March, and she wes almost wild with joy. She sung as she went to and fro in her rooms, making them as beautiful as : sible, and sat at her piano to play joyous ttle trills of song. She ordered a store of flowers from the florist, and when the waiter brought her lunch she told him that he was to furnish the choicest of dinners for two, After luncheon she eo hours upon her bath and,toilet; shen her throbbing brows and the bounding pulses a her slender wrists in t washes, and rob- ing her tiny figure in blush-rose silk. No longer could she wear the pale blues and cool neutral hues that had so become her pink-and-white beauty but two short years ago. But the blushing pink lent a slight color to her white face, and over the exquisite draperies her fair hair poured a or flood. he bound it back with rosy ribbon, clas, milky pearls at throat and wrists, and seated herself at the win- dow to watch for the coming of her Love. a... CHAPTER X “UNDEOEIVED,. “On, Alay! Alan!” A a had rolled up to the door of the little Q r+ dwelling and Elise had flown down the «.. ‘rs to meet the traveler, . ~ dear, was it nécessary for you to come down here to meet me?’ Alan asked, with some annoyance, withdrawing himself from her pas- sionate clasp and leading the way to their own rooms. “How could I wait a minute, Alan, when I had not seen you in two long, miserable the months were the same length | months?” “T suppose > ake Rae. ouse, and to eke out their smallincome had | conspired to make her unhappy, even Rachel! | for both of us,” he answered, indifferently, ; her their second floor toa young married | and Rachel was the only person who had ever | throwing himself into an easy-chair. -- eouple—a shy little flower-fair woman and a| been a real companion to her. If they had been, I think you would have bold, dark-eyed, handsome man. Her mother had only cared for her as an ob- | come sooner!” Elise said, with quivering lips, a r these people had lived a year within | ject at whom she could fret and moralize; and her hands in her efforts to control her ss this quiet dwelling, Miss Smith remarked to her | though she had kissed her father nightly, for “Tt is a pity I camo now, if fault-finding is to be my only reception,” Alan retorted, ri tiently. fy The little pink-robed form threw itself inte ’ . mnother that she regretted that they had given * a two~ iden $e ite pests: ean “Why, ‘Beceat the old y asked, placidly. | his arms, and tumbled her curly hair, end “ t : fi Ses - a Re: ie _ Z - + z ee +.
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re Tet” Age Ate Se he ek eit his ‘arms, with wild hysteric sobs and laughter. “A pity you came now, when I am dying! dying! dying to see you! Oh! do not be -angry with me! Do you not know that I wor- ‘ship you? That I only livein yonr presence? 2Oh, Alan! love!” With caresses Alan calmed the storm he had raised, and for a brief hour there was a 2ness, Then their dinner was brought, and Mr. i®Torrence ordered the waiter to be early with ‘ the breakfast, as he wished to take a morning train to New York. Elise dropped her fork, and extended her hands in mute, anguished su plication, her face blanched and her eyes wide- wild with pain. ; ‘““Well, well,” corrected Alan, anxious to avoid a scene at that moment, ‘bring the breakfast at any hour you choose. Come to think, I will not go back in the morning.” While the waiter packed the debris of the dinner, Alan went to Elise’s desk to write a note, and she stole to his side and sat there pa- tient and sad. Pulling open a drawer to look for paper, the first article that met his eye was ale addressed: ‘Mrs, Exise P, CHANDOR, * Southern Hotel “ City. ” Elise had the previous day employed her time, as she often did, now, in reading the few notes and letters Alan had ever sent her; and this had been left uppermost. - ““ What consummate folly is this?” cried Alan, angrily. ‘‘ This should have been destroyed long ago!” a I could not bear to destroy a line of yours,” said Elise, timidly. ‘* But I certainly do not suppose you were such an idiot as to keep this!” retorted Alan, putting the letter in his pocket and commencing his note. When the communication was finished, and given to the waiter to post, and they were again alone, Elise dropped upon her knees before Alan’s chair. “Oh! Alan, you did not pty tot res could not have meant—to return to New Yor in the morning?” : i Yes, I did; and I must go in the afternoon.” erm? 8000, darling? So soon?” pleaded Elise. Think! I have not seen you in two months, and Phe stay with me only one day!” tell yo, once for all, that I shall not come again, if lam to be found fault with,” replied Alan, ogy saris id Elise- ses her face into her hands and sobbed quietly. Presently she lifted her tear- filled eyes and asked, piteously : *“ Alan, do you not vove me?” “Of course I love you, Elise. The ae of my loveare all around you; and I shall come to see you as often as possible. But, I may as well tell you first as last, that you must expect me but seldom.” Elise looked at him with a strange, startled expression growing upon her face. Alan, are you never to take me to New York with you? Never to tell people that I am Pate wife? Are we never to live together all he time, for years and years, just as we did for a few happy months?” nie ow as well as I do that that is impos- “ But is it to be impossible alwayst ll die! I shall Alan Torrence pushed the gi/! : aced the floor a few momenta: rir oe my ck and placed her on his lap, “Listen to me, Elise,” he sai?’ gently, but firmly. ‘You know that I love you, F tecve tuld you soagain and again. I repeat it now; but proclaim this fact to the world, and our con. nection to the world I cannot; for I have been married.” Elise looked into his face, now, with eyes and Cheeks so scorching that no tears were léft, “‘ Butam I not your wife, Alan?’ “Yes, my darling, you and I know that you are my own dear little wife. But do you sup- pose the world would believe it, in the face of your history?, And do you not know that on 60% own unsupported word, you are powerless rove it?” : ee lise’s eyes still looked burningly into his; but her dry, parched lips could utter no sound, hot even a moan. Alan went on: ‘* As long as you love me, and I love you, you hall sta Sore in this pretty little home, and ‘my little love, and I will come often to see Tou, Say, Elise, do you love ie eer /h 2 7 our Alan yet? ill you keep this little haven always ready for him to find here rest and comfort, and bliss in your sweet presence?” “Oh, Alan!” and the girl’s hard, woeful voice rose almost to a scream. ‘‘ What choice have I? —what choice have I? I live only for you. Without you, your presence, and your love, I should die! So I must stay! I must do any- thing you say—be — you choose—since you are mysvorld and my life!” Alan Térrence had gained his point. He understood Elise’s nature well enough, by this time, to be sure that, unlike most women, she would, even in the face of this confession, still yield to his power and dictation. -Other wo- men’s affections would have lessened with this outrage put upon them; other women would have grown vengeful and asserted themselves against any such plans to keep their lives one long, disgraceful secret. But Alan knew that the sum and substance of Elise’s life was her love for him; and though he had already grown tired of the girl’s clinging passion, since he had burdened himself with her, he had no choice but to still play upon that love, and keep her subjection to such of his wishes as would make her the least trouble to him. Now that he had told her, of what he himself had ae that he should never proclaim her as his wife, he relapsed into his old-time, most ardent and lover-like tenderness; and under his impassioned caresses, and burnin love-words, Elise was faintly happy. Even at their ting, next day, for Alan’s sake, she tried hide her misery. But when he was gone, and she had watched the carriage down the street until she could no longer see it, nor even hear its clatter upon the pavement, she threw herself upon the floor, and buried her wan, white face among the delicate blossoms of the costly carpet and moaned: * Alan! Alan! Oh, Alan!” And God pity the woman who wails the name of lover or husband with such utter despair in her voice! CHAPTER XI. WILDE MANOR AND ITS GUESTS. “Waar success have you met with?—less than you hoped, I see by i pra faces,” cried Miss diner, as Rachel and Eric joined her at the Grand Central Depot. ; Mrs. Lysson described the visit to Mrs. Stan- ford and the conversation that had ensued. “And now,” she concluded, ‘‘ the hour has come when we must say good-by.” “What? You take to-morrow’s steamer!” ex- claimed Agnes, “‘T think we shall,” said Mr. Lysson, ‘There is so little clew to follow: we only know that a medium-sized man, with dark eyes, and brown hair and » and nice voice and manners, came from Baltimore or Philadelphia, to New York, in June, and gave to Mrs. Stanford that envelope. Hundreds of men would answer to such a hor a on but I shall write to Guy of all that has happened; and if he thinks it pos- sible to trace the person, by means of dau blys worded advertisements, he will probably stay a few weeks in New York upon his way to Eng- land. At present, Miss Agnes, I shall emia my mantle to Fe Since you discovered the envelope I shall return it to you, and let you exercise your detective powers.” “Oh, no; please do not! I can assure you that any efforts of mine to do detective business would prove most ignominious failures; and neither at Wilde Manor nor at home will there be the slightest opportunity for me to learn anything concerning Elise. Besides, it seems to me that Mr. Chandor is the proper person to have this envelope.” , ‘“‘ Under ordinary circumstances, Miss Agnes, I should disdain to confess to entertaining the smallest amount of superstition; but the man- ner in which you came to bring the envelope and its mystery again to light seems so peculiar that I must say I have a desire that you should re- tain possession of it, in the hope that through you may come some further discovery. I will give you this other bit of writing; you see they are not at all alike; and with your permission, send Guy a letter of introduction to you, that if he desires to prosecute further inquiries he ‘THE PRETTY PURITAN. x én || | | } may call and get those papers from you in | person.” A laughed; yet she felt some little wo- man A igrosig’ to see the young Englishman v ad lost his bride under such mysterious circumstances, ‘Very well; I will consent to become cus- todian, for the time being, of the documents in questiqn; though I have no faith in your idea . ‘ ‘ ‘ > ee ae F | | | | f his cir N Mr. V. first ti 9 ¥ that through me will come any further des =~ velopments concerning this case. Nevertheless Miss Gardiner put the papers away in her elegant hemes esierere and as the train which was to r her back to the ee ties of Wilde Manor moved slowly out cf the depot, she wondered, idly, if Mr. Lysson’s pre-e sentiment could possibly be true; and these pa- rs in some way be connected with her own ate; and she destined to make further discov- | eries concerning them. Then she thought of — Carl Van Alst, and Wilde Manor, and edat the improbability of the idea; and with her feet upon a hassock, and a new book o upon her lap, had quite banished such odd fancies, when the train slackened its speed at the riverside - station where her journey terminated, Car] Van Alst was upon the platform, and at © just the right car to give Agnes his hand, with a look that said more of welcome than a score — of words could have done; and the Wildes’ phaeton, with its span of black ponies, waited lo Carl was to drive her up to the man- near. or or, through the sweet-scented, dewy twilight, _ just as Agnes had imagined he would—for even he best regulated and most orthodox female heart will, occasionally, indulge in such idle =~ eamings, ‘‘And what have you been doing at the Manor during my absence, Mr, Van ? ask- ed Agnes, when they were cosily ensconced, side by side, and he had given the ribbons to the fleet ponies. ’ 3 ““We have had croquet, and —_— and shoot- > ing, and drives, and rides, and walks, as usual; but all have’ seemed utterly dull without you, ~~ Miss Agnes.” > : “Or, rather, Miss Rodwell and Marion Dare have been less entertaining than usual, and you, 3 yourself, perhaps, afflicted with an attack of in- digestion!” ‘Not in the least!” retorted Carl; “that is an unknown malady to me; and the ladies wrre never more entertaining. By the way, wehave — had reinforcements ce your departure. Quite a crowd of visitors arrived this morning, —__ and Mrs. Wilde is in her element—though sho is devoutly longing for the return of hervice- erent. But even our charming hostess cannot fave been as utterly unhappy during your ab- | sence as your humble servant.” anit J ‘* That is because she is sustained by the con- — 7 ana la ee to be a Thave — ittle charity for those people w venothing to do but be unhappy, indulge the feeling as a sort of luxury. Sa “You are merciless, Miss Agnes. Doyouin- tend me to understand that you condemn my ~~ unhappiness?” es. “*T condemn youin no wise, and I do not be- lieve you know what positive unhappiness is, — and you have not told me who the new guests are?’ answered Agnes, li ee Preis ane ask Alst’s Ric % He pee a oublo a moment, but he gayly: 4 ‘* Have yon forgotten the pesver band skeleton in every closet, that you feel so P aaa tn that I é have never known unhappiness mv 2: ‘Yes; or, rather, I hoped you had been an exception,” said Miss Gardiner, with a sudden charming gentleness and self-reproach, ate eS “Oh, do not think it is that!” he bee care Ny ree 5 ly, feeling by instinct that of his marriage. ‘‘Iad ing us from the burd of a lif ina aeaelane + g us from the en of a life-lo a o; I bad never known love then pe Nahr og There was no misunderstanding the intent of thisexplanation nor the meaning that pervad- ed Mr. Van Alst’s voice as he spoke last sentence, But when he lightly cha the. : subject to that of the new guests, forthe — : throb playing at love. Her heart gavea of pain for a moment, and then her p ‘dips. «, curled disdainfully at the thought of any men | trifling with her, or of ever ng that he — had won her preference until he firstavowed his _ own, For Agnes Gardiner, in her proud young womanhood and with her worldly training, — was the last person, whether she married for interest or for love, to vulgarly let her motives be seen—to wear her heart upon her sleeve, ‘There are Mr. De Lancy,a bachelor very old and very rich; ne uncle and father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Van Alst; John Richmond, and a vane insipid little Englishman, Willis Leonard _ name, : fe And the ladies?” ied Agnes. “Mrs. Lorrimer, Mi er, Sianfrey.” , ie ‘Miss Lorrimer! Are you at all acquainted —_ ‘ / wt fe ty t time, wondered if this man could Ye “
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AO.” ys Beets 9% ’ F ashore ‘ t vr” ate’ a Y nd 7 4 NS! PRET aha ty" 2, (2s Sak, Fi HE ad Y PURITAN. vk Sgt sey yo . 4 with her? Ys her name Blanche?” asked Miss Gardiner, with quick interest. Carl Van Alst carefully scrutinized his com- ___ -panion’s face while he seemed only to be watch- ang the ponies, as he answered: - Br ‘Iam acquainted with the family. Durin _my first long stay in New York I used to visi there somewhat, and Miss Lorrimer’s name is Blanche. May Task if youare acquainted with her?” “Not in the least—I never saw her until last evening; she was at Thomas’s with a little bru- oy netteand a fine-looking elderly gentleman.” __ “My uncle and Issalene Sanfrey, doubtless; both young ladies are his wards. ere you at- tracted by Blanche’s beauty? She is considered rather unusually beautiful.” “Yes, I thought ber so; but her chief attrac- tion to me is the fact that she was a school-chum : ofa young lady in whom I am greatly interested. gi I quite long to make Miss Lorrimer’s acquaint- ie ance, Bee “And you will speedily have the oppor- ~~ tunity,” said Carl, giving thre nies a Gut Gist : sent them flying faster toward a possible dis- “covery of a new clew to Hlise Chandor’s fate. TT have not told you the latest sensation,” he . continued, as they neared the manor .gates. _ “Mrs. Wilde gives a se. pk to-morrow, with afternoon tea, a dance, and supper after the ball. Besides the guests at the manor, all _. the best families about here are invited.” 4 ‘‘Mrs, Wilde’s first lawn-party of the sea- son! It is sure to be pleasant; her parties al- (Ways are.” oy “T shall enjoy it, if you promise me at least _ half a dozen dances; otherwise I shall be bored if _ to death.” - ~, “You are most moderate in your demands! I will promise three—one lanciers and two waltzes—and trust that you will survive.” . “How cruel you are! Nevertheless, I receive oe, smallest favors gratefully at your hands; and if oe you enjoy yourself, I shall find enjoyment in ‘watching you. Doyou know that acquaintance be with you has added nite a new and blissful flavor to my life, Miss es? ey ‘ How could I know it? But I am sure it isa pleasant thing to. learn. Is it because I enjoy mayself?” ; ‘Tt is because you are so poms _ «vigorous in mind and body. ‘You afford a man such charming mental companionship and you fresh and fairly fascinate him with your gear 4 for "si digieley physical happiness. It seems as if the ae mere bare fact of existence is enjoyment to Be ore OCF OS. _ “JT believe itis,” laughed Agnes, ‘‘ when the 2S air is clear and I have had a pleasant ride!” And she sprung from the phaeton upon the a marble steps at Wilde Manor, where her hostess ss waited to welcome her, and carry her away to __. the delicious little dinner that was being served for her in the cosey little breakfast-room. | While she ate her dinner, Miss Gardiner’s thoughts reverted to the subject that the proxi- Bee mity of the Lorrimers kept vivid. ‘These peo- at entertained her at 1 ares oy hee ne had known Elise—h ‘their veptoeeae aegis one of the gayest seasons of _ life in town. ght not Blise have formed | some friendship there that had influenced her | future? True, Miss Lorrimer had written Rachel that - she had eae to Elise, nor of Elise writing to any one . “but her own family, But how did they know _ that Miss Lorrimer was to be trusted? Might not Blanche, herself, feel in a degree responsible for some unfortunate acquaintance Elise _ ‘formed; and so deny all knowledge of it? 2 ge ne miners to question Miss Lorrimer, ‘and ; ce to do so was afforded her in a very _ few minutes after she had donned an evening dress and appeared in the drawing-room. The _ two ladies were introduced just as Miss Lor- known of no gentleman paying atten- Ser ow. } __. “ Will you not sit here?” Blanche asked, mov- ing to one end of ‘the little tete-a-tete. As Miss _ Gardiner accepted the seat, she added: ‘Is it not quite odd, Miss Gardiner, that we should _ meet again so soon?” ; _ . “After our two rencounters last evening?— yes; andiam rp mre lad that it has hap- pened so, for the lady’friend who was with me -, recogn ese as having been a room-mate of ges “A her } °a : Vassar.” ' “You do not mean Elise Wallbridge?” _ Yes; the lady with me was Mrs. (Lysson.” __“Then you know Elise? ‘You can tell me all _. about her—where she is?” be te tell me” I had hoped that, possibly, you could two young women regarded) each other a Ore; ne rs if * fe cra The >) es Y, d ba tg" Fe heats Bye, t y Nn ji 9 vid 1D. wee ; Sa iat e~V Ome % = i Ps oe BS oie a eae . — : Gee oa arte) eres epee ee ee) silently for # moment, Agnes with steady, in- ‘tent gaze, Blanche with glowing hauteur. “‘T think,” said Blanche, coolly, breaking the | silence, ‘ that you must havemade some mistake | regarding me. eT think I have, and I ask your pardon,” re- | sponded Miss Gardiner, acefully. Already she was convinced that Blanche Lorrimer was innocent of any knowledge of her chum’s fate. ‘T had only hoped that having been Elise’s friend once, you had at some time become her confidante, and could help me to some know- ledge of the secret of her life.” ‘* The. secret of her life—and you cannot tell me about her, nor where she is!” asked Blanche, Mb ry pong “T can tell you a little—if you care to know;” and, briefly, Agnes related Elise’s history, ending wit soereee into an elopement with some former over. “Poor little Elise! She was such a gentle little thing! I cannot understand it. Cer- tainly she could not have been in love while I knew her!” Miss Lorrimer asserted, posi- tively. “the whole matter is enveloped in a dread- ful mystery, and so painful a one that you will be so secret.” ** Most certainly,” said Blanche, gravely. And the two youn listener behind the lace draperies that had shel- tered their seat, whose face was ablaze with fu- rious hate and passion. Issalene had step from the marble veranda, | into the bay-window, intending thus to enter | \ A | a8 to keep cool over all subjects in such wea- the on, steps, and riveted her attention so completely that she was quite oblivious of the fact that Carl Van Alst had followed, to speak with her, and stood just without the window-frame, puff- ing upon a cigar, and admiring her statuesque attitude. ‘So that is what hasbecome of her!” Issalene whispered, fiercely, as Agnes Gardiner conclud- ed her story of Elise. ‘Could it have been Alan she ran away with? She certainly loved him— and he her! Her! an insipid little Puritan, in- thyer when the conversation being carried stead of me! I wish I could kill them both, or | rather discover their secret and proclaim it to the world!” The little Cuban fairly hissed the last words between her tiny clenched teeth, and the man ladies sauntered away, leaving a | he other side of the curtains, arrested her | her belief that Elise had been | kind as to keep it an inviolable | ly. who heard them involuntarily recoiled from | this exhibition of a girl’s hot, vindictive hatred. ' He tossed away his cigar, and went quictl back along the veranda, to the brilliantly-light- ed hallway. CHAPTER XII. THE LAWN PARTY. DINNER was served at noon, the day of the lawn party, and as Carl Van Alst and Miss Sanfrey happened, for a moment, side by side, the gentleman said, softly: * Tssalene, it is an eternity since I have seen ou, to talk with you. Cannot you dress early a and take a walk with me around the Manor before the guests commence to arrive? And you must save me two or three nice dances for this evening.” The little Cuban raised her dark brows co- quettishly and her scarlet lips curved to a glow- ing smile. **Mr. Van Alst knows how delighted I shall be to comply with his requests. I will be in the rose-lined tent by four o’clock. How many hearts, here, shall I break by my appearance upon your arm?” : ; “T am afraid any such delightful pastime will be denied you, to-day,” laughed Carl; “though when you have been here a week, and sritiled like that upon all the gentlemen at the Manor, I may be able to give you a different answer,” he added, gallantly, as they separated to take their places at table. ‘‘ Well, Blanche?” Issaleno cried, a few hours later, appearing in her cousin’s room. | i den what, Issalene?”’ asked Miss Lorrimer, dropping a novel and turning sleepily upon the lounge. ‘‘ You did not come to tell me it is al- ready four o’clock?” “No, it’s only a little after three; but I am tired, of reading, and I could not sleep. I want to know what you intend wearing, and what you think of the people here?” ; “Tm going to wear my pale-blue silk grena- dine, with pink rose-buds; as for the people— what people?” as AS Why. all of them; Mrs. Wilde and her son, and Miss Gardiner, and Miss Dare, and that lit- tle Rodwell, and the gentlemem.” — strolled out alon | Agnes, ‘to complete this croquet-party. Iam | manding and superior to that strange, triumph- | niece, | with the women, and efi the men to while ' away dull hours by mild | in no wise born to rule and command, a | Mrs. Wilde is very pleasant, and a perfect hostess, just as mamma said she would be; and Mr. Wilde is as narcentle as his mother; as for , Miss Gardiner, she is fine-looking, certainly and seems a great favorite with the Wildes ancig Carl.” of “Yes; and she is a coquette, and gives heler self airs; I cannot bear her, nor that affectely little Rodwell thing, with all that flying hair!’ of “Oh, you are sure to dislike some one!” sai Blanche, lazily; “‘ but I would wait until I knevi. people a little better before pears suc! 1 decided opinions concerning them. Miss Dare is a plain little body, but seems good-natured ae rn She is Mrs. ‘Wilde’s niece, isn’t she “‘T believe so; and I’ll tell you whom I hate— that horrid old man who sits next me at table.” ‘Mr. De Lancy! Oh, Issalene, and he was so devoted to you to-day, he did not half-eat his dinner; and he is prodigiously rich!” cried erry i$ teasingly. i 5 ‘ nd prodigiously ugly! isgusting old creature! I abhor old men—without wives!” HS reigegrar i fe have not been well educated, Mamma should have told you how much finer it is to be an old man’s darling than a young men slave,” continued Miss Lorrimer, trifling- ‘‘She never would have made me believe it!” said ene, growing furious, ‘I never could love a man who was not young and handsome; but for love of him I would be a slave—any- | thing! Butan old man—bah! I’d die before T'dm one!” “Nonsense,” laughed Blanche ; “you do not know what you may do. And would advise her as this.” Issalene went back to her own room, slam- | m7 door after her. ‘ arry ; an old man, indeed!” she cried, an- grily, as she paced the floor. ‘‘No! I’ll never marry but one man, and if I cannot have him, Pll kill myself! Oh, Alan! Alan!” So, rashly and wildly, is youth given to promising, little dreaming what wonders time ios work, resently Miss Sanfrey remembered her ap- pointment with Carl Van Alst, and calmed her outburst of passion, and arrayed herself in a brilliant transparent costume of rose-color, and went down through the wide halls and airy par- lors, trailing and brimming over with flowers, and out to the little tent upon the lawn, where Carl sat puffing upon a cigar. “Oh, you are come,” he said; ** and-how daz- zling you are! I may keep on smoking, I pre- sume. And how do you like Wilde Manor? ““Ttis a lovely place, certainly,” Issalene an- swered, as she took Mr. Van Alst’s arm and the broad, shaded walks— little dreaming what she was to hear. Mrs. Wilde was upon the marble balcony re- ceiving her guests, and Miss Gardiner was mar- shaling a party for ri when Carl came up with Issalene, the girl looking very bewitching after her walk, in her rosy draperies, with her eyes flashing and a brilliant bloom in each round dark cheek, “You are just in time, Mr. Van Alst,” said sure Miss Sanfrey will be your partner.” Miss Gardiner’s violet eyes, cool and com- ant glance with which Issalene stood regarding her, met the little brunette’s a moment, in calm disdain, as she thus eachy assignee to the girl the very partner she cove When Agnes had organized two croquet- parties and a rifle match, she still found quite enough to do to make Mrs. Wilde’s afternoon in all waysa success, Marion Dare, Mrs. Wilde’s d spent many summers.at the manor, and was obliging to every one, and sociable irtations, but she nas quite nativs to Miss Gardiner; and so it had come about that Mrs, Wilde relied am Agnes to help her do the honors of Wilde Manor through the weeks when it was crowded with visitors, and poor little Marion never thought of offering her humble aid. If she had, doubtless Mrs. Wilde would have said: ‘Oh, no, dear; Agnes knows best about everything!” and Miss Gardiner would have smiled, and answered: ‘You are very kind, Marion; but really there is nothing you can do ” y J 80 Marion good-naturedly filled any place to which she was assigned, while Agnes moved hither and thither, her elegant lissom form _ draped in folds of glistening silvery tissue, with \ ‘a ei hs ni
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PA woe ee (oo ae | heavy sash and knots of black velvet reveving ; it, and a few of her favorite pansies nestled in her reddish braids—great golden-lipped pansies, with jetty velvet. centers—discernible, always, among the brilliant ey Ne the lawn, as mshe found the coolest seats for the ladies, carried the fan to some heated croquet player, showed qovices in the rifle match how to hold their arweapons, or sent a lazy cavalier to point out to | geome shy lady the beauties of the parterres and -greenhouses—always cool, always commanding. § always fascinating, with that air of blissful physical content about her that made more people than Carl Van Alst watch her with a re- flex sense of restfulness and enjoyment. The games passed off well, the gentlemen were kept up to their duty in the way of flirta- tions, the claret-lemonade in the great Indian punch-bowl upon the lawn was always of the requisite degree of iciness, the elder ladies found allant gentlemen anxious—at the instigation of iss Gardiner—to promenade with them, and cosey chairs in shady nooks reserved for them when they were tired, and so the time for tea came, and every one pronounced the afternoon “ perfect!” An hour and a half was idled away in the parlors and upon the broad marble neyo A where biscuits, tiny triangular sandwiches, deli- cate cakes and tea were served, while the twi- light added witchery to the music of voice and iano, and intensified the romance of flirtations, Then the dining-room, improvised into a ball- room that was a perfect bower of greenery and bloom, lighted by scores of waxen tapers, was thrown open to the dancers. Chinese lanterns twinkled thickly about the lawn and veranda, over the parlors was flung a glare of light, mu- sic floated through all the mansion, and light rt tripped joyously to the soft measures of the waltz. ‘ “Oh, Carl!” cried Issalene, after her first waltz | with Mr, Van Alst, as they rested by an open window, ‘‘there is that little Rodwell making herself agreeable to uncle Frederick,” “That.is because Henrion is not near. Where is he, I wonder?” ‘Gone out with Miss Gardiner,” said Issalene, =. scrutinizing her companion’s face, ‘‘ They left 8 the room before we moepee waltzing. Oh, hor- rors! There comes that hideous Mr. De Lancy toward us! Take me away!” ‘‘ Probably he wanted to engage you for the next quadrille,” laughed Carl, as he led Miss Sanfrey through the window upon the veranda and so..to a path among the lantern-lighted shrubbery; ‘‘itis cruel of you to deprive him of that pleasure!” “Do you think I. would dance with him? Wings 4 would make me shiver just to touch his S ‘What a shame that he should es Tie you with such horror, when he has evidently been in love with your face from the first moment:he looked upon it. Couldn’t you manage to recip- rocate, Issalene?” le “Reciprocate! Love him! When you know |. that I shall never love but one man!” “‘ And that man—Alan!” “* And that man Alan!” repeated Issaleneafter him, with low, intense voice. And if Alan should not love you?” Carl — half jestingly, his sea me wp I brown ey : ng see t down into the fiery black fush od facet my up to him out of the dark ould kill myself!” the little Cuban whis- red, passionately. “But do you want to ow what I would do first? I would kill him!” A eae rope MADE AND BROKEN, ““HeAVENS! What a temper Issalene has!” Carl Van Alst said to himself, the morning af- ter the lawn-party, his thoughts reverting to the events of the previous evening as he strolled around the manor, to get up au appetite for the late breakfast for which few of the visitors had any appeared. ‘‘I wonder what she would do a man who trifled with her? Not kill him, nor herself—girls seldom carry out such rash threats; but do him all the harm ble, I haven’ta doubt. It would — be interestin to know for how much trouble her Cuban jeal- ousy is already responsible. What a pretty lit- tle spit-fire she is, though! Most men would be proud to have such a girl in love with them; and how deliciously she confessed to her secret, when I asked her if she loved Alan! It is strange that a passion which has existed so long hang oa Ishould have discovered so oddly st. ; And here Carl Van Alst’s thoughts strayed to Agnes Gardiner, and his dark, liquid eves arew ¢ -— har edt t Bae ave and wistful, wavering troubled “lines ormed themselves about his handsome mouth, and there came such a look upon his dusky, splendid face as must have made his guardian angel yearn pitifully to help the man decide for the right in the conflict between good and evil which thoughts of her had aroused in his mind. Scores of times in this man’s life he had play- ed the game of love—sometimes, indeed, believ- ing it wasin truth; but one by one each fanc had wearied him, leaving him bored with life and satiated with passion, Even his brief mar- riage to his cousin, Gertrude Van Alst, while she was in Germany for her health, had held no romance for him. He had united the two branches of the Van Alst family at his grand- father’s desire, but he had felt no further pangs of pity and regret when his young bride was laid in her foreign grave, than might have been entertained by any gentlemanly stranger over the death of a fair girl not yet out of her teens, Immediately after Gertrude’s death he came to America, and fitted up for himself a suit of rooms in New York wit great magnificence; but until he had accepted Henrion Wilde’s invi- tation to spend the summer at the manor, he had quite forsaken society and forsworn feminine associations. So unaccountable had these freaks seemed to those who had known him well dur- ing his ene periods of life in New York that Carl had gained an immense amount of sympathy and admiration, from acquaintances who imagined him Soe Hit a sorrow which, in truth, he had never felt; but while surmises concerning his recluseness were wildly incor- rect, none guessed the true cause, and many an anxious mamma hoped that by the next sum- mer the wealthy young widower might return to the social gayeties of New York and be suc- cessfully courted by some one of her marriage- able daughters. But, all such hopes were destined to be disap- inted, Toast Van Alst went to Wilde Manor, and met Agnes Gardiner, and straightway fell in love with her. And then he knew, that all former loves had been mere passing fancies, but this oe for Agnes was the one grand passion of is life. Her intense lifefulness, her culture and accomplishments, her perfect tastes, her fascin- ating manner—so equally frank, ceful and dignified—her high-bred control of her emotions, her rare, charmful beauty, and her proud mo- rality, all appealed powerfully to Carl Van Alst’s nature. The more unlike in character he found her to himself the more ardently he wor- shi her; and it was the very exaltation of his love for her which had'so far kept him from declaring it, and winning Miss Gardiner’s de- licious consent to become his wife. : Could he link this refined, proud, upright life to his own accursed one? This was the question with which he was struggitn this morning, when Miss Gardiner herself interrupted his meditations, and, briefly, the onward movement of her approaching fate, As she came toward him in her floating lav- ender draperies, the morning sun burnishing to red-gold her luxurious hair and lighting up her calm, proud, colorless face, her Es smiling, and her wondrous violet eyes frankly looking her pleasure at abi Bett Carl Van Alst, as he touched her outstretched hand, registered in his soul, before High ak an oath that he would never insult this splendid girl with an avowal of his love for her. He would quit Wilde Manor on the morrow, return to Europe, and so leave Agnes to forget him, ‘So you, too, are getting up an appetite for breakfast,” he said, as he turned to walk with her. “Oh, no! My appetite is unimpaired; but I had a few minutes to spare, and thought I would walk down by the gate where there isa bed of pale-blue, almost lavender pansies. want a cluster for my hair,” ‘May I walk there with you?” aba ths oe if you will escort me immediate- ly back to breakfast. Do you know what we are to do to-day?” “No, but you are probably prepared to jin- Te Gaknds Sie #0 d that ing on a riding-party and a picnic; is, those who care e Mide will do so, and car- riages will take the others. We start as soon after ten as possible, for our destination will be ae Lake, and that is nearly a fifteen-mile ride. ‘And how are we to be entertained when we get there?” “Oh, in the usual picnic ways. herp will be two tents, in which to rest, and in which the la- dies can ¢ e their habits for costumes more compatible with croquet-playing and fern- ; se ¢ ua “ f ‘ oN He H 4 . » emya, fe: se Re et al 7 i a eres Pe PRETTY PURITAN, a a, ay » i rm - { = ey me =| gathering. Then there will be archery and rifle \} matches, lunches, walks, flirtations, and all the accompaniments of an orthodox picnic, Of course you will ride?” ‘Tf I may act as your escort.” “I have promised Mr, Wilde that he may go Tesh that duty; but you will ride, neverthe-— : i hd “T presume I shall,” he said, perme gel a not very contentedly, as he bent over the bed of pansies, to gather her a cluster of her pets. The picnic pict a Mi asuccess. Not one of the at Wilde Manor remained at home, and several couples from the neighborhood, in acceptation of some early messages dispatched by . Wilde, joined the gay group of eques- a ns, The route to Silent Lake was a delightfulone, over a shady, hilly road, with outlooks upon fine scenery. The party on horseback headed — the cavalcade, Henrion and fag leading. Flossy Rodwell was riding with John Richmond 4 { and was in anything but an enviable frameof mind, since her ambition was to be esco by Carl Van Alst or Henrion ‘Wilde; however, she — was, too inborn a flirt and actress not todo her = _ prettiest to fascinate her escort, Andanother oung lady was secretly disappointed that the eir of Wilde Manor not chosen her society, and that was Blanche Lorrimer, whowas riding with the little Englishman, Carl Van Alst es-— .! corted Issalene, and Marion Dare’s lot had fal- len in with that of a merry youth who was one — of the Wildes’ neighbors. bee After the equestrians, came an open avi 9 containing the two married ladies and Mr. De Taney Mr. Van Alst; a huge wagon, crowd- Ss ed with conveniences, and luxuries, and ser- ~ | vants, brought up the rear. ; a) It was one o’clock when the tourists gathered | __ i J at the lake; and with luncheon, games, and walks, the afternoon wore gayly andrapidly — away; but the att were not to set out upon their return until eight o’clock, when they would neve! moonlight during part of theirride home-. war et Late in the afternoon Carl Van Alst missed Agnes from the party. He hadseenlittleofher during the day; and as he had resolvedto leave Wilde Manor the next morning, he would not | deny himself one more walk with her. Having | satisfied himself that she was notnearthetents, he strolled into the deeper woodland in searchof = her, and shortly gained a clew toher wander- gs—a pansy among some tr te. ferns; a moment more he was within aa voices, abet ee Just above him, hop a ledge of fern-thick, = mossy rocks, where a little archway among the trees afforded a pretty, tiny lookof thelake, sat — Agnes, while Henrion Wilde stood near her, ae leah Sere a tree, his face flushed and his . whole bearing one of annoyance, Rad i a, | “Tell me one thing, Agnes, If yousay that aa love some other man, I shall know that ere is no hope for me,” Henrion was saying. —s “You have no right to expect an answer to such an inquiry; but I do assure you, YOR: that there is no hope of my ever ey ag ou a. 2 aw different answer. Pray frien enrion, —— ra and let us forget this whole matter, from this moment,” answered Miss Gardiner, calmly, = “There is no choice for me but to forget,” re- = lied Mr. Wilde. ‘‘Ishallneverrecurtoit,and | hope we may not change our past attitude to ward each 4) rising and at that moment she saw Carl c ‘ vq | C) Ae: any across her pale face. TT beg pard ej he 1} om || \ sion had conquered the purer nature of his — love for the woman whostood his graceful vis-a- | is prize which he had just seen denied to annie, a i me \ [murs | y j 5 oe Llove you?” en eee tl lendid brown eyes tried to read her unfathom- ao a refused : a pulsing hands, and pe Sree: ‘ea soa :
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et a ’) 2» ” quite fill the place in his affections that
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ee ee el See = showed considerable and very kindly interest in plain, sunny-tempered Miss Dare. Thus matters drifted on at the manor: and through the waning August sunlight, and the brilliant September days, the warp and woof of more destinies than one were being woven to the ill or perfect end. One morning, when the gentlemen were away and the young ladies, with the matrons, were | gathered around a heap of costly old-fashioned resses and finery, from which they were manu- facturing some picturesque costumes for ta- bleaux, a letter, marked Denver, and super- scribed in a ¢ ear, bold, manly hand, was brought to Agnes. As just at that moment a brocaded robe was being fitted to Miss Rod- well, and Agnes’s assistance was not needed, she withdrew to a window to peruse the note, which she correctly surmised was from Guy Chandor, “My Dear Miss GARDINER: : “I am just in receipt of my brother-in-law’s let- ter. I have decided, instead of going directly to Europe, to spend some weeks in New York, and make another effort to penetrate the mystery which for the last sixteen months has clouded my life. Ishall avail myself of your kind permission to make your acquaintance, desiring to hear from you, in dan, the circumstances which Hrie was obliged to mention most briefly, and to. obtain from you the specimens of penmanship which he says he has given to your care. I fervently hope they may prove of some avail in tracing the ab- ductor of my wife. Will you do me the favor to send me a line saying where and when I can meet ou? Immediately upon receipt of it, I shall leave henver and arrive in New York within a week. If I do not hear from you before starting East, my address in town will be at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. “Very respectfully ours ‘Guy CHAnpDor.” “‘T am afraid your communication was nota very pleasant one,” said Miss Lorrimer, a few minutes after Agnes had finished reading her letter, and the two young ladies, side by side, were deftly metamorphosing an ancient ball- dress into a Greek girl’s costume; ‘‘ you look so unwontedly serious.” : “Tt was a letter from Mr. Chandor, the bride- hei whom Elise Wallbridge so mysteriously eserted.”” . ete: “Indeed! exclaimed Blanche, with interest. “Then you know him?” 5 “Only through a letter introduction from Mr, Lysson. He is coming East.” “ How I should like to see him,” said Blanche. _. ““You may have the opportunity,” responded Agnes; ‘for with Mrs, Wilde’s permission I am going to ask him here to the meeting he de- sires, “But I shall miss seeing him, for we leave in e days now.” : y at soon? Our party will be entirely spoil- ‘You are very nice to say so} but I hope our eeenete will not plunge matters here into so sad a state as that. But I really do apenas los- ing the opportunity of seeing Mr. Chandor. Of course you will tell him how oddly you came to discover the last trace of Elise?” ““Yes, and return to him the eee Ido not remember whether I told you, but I have it as yet in my possession, together with another scrap of writing by a person whom we have reason to believe has been, or is, in some way connected with Elise. If you care to see them I will. show them to you before youleave. Not t I suppose there is the slightest hope of your being able to recognize the writing as any 7% have ever seen in her possession.” ‘‘No, I am afraid there is none,” replied Blanche, “ but I should like to see that torn en- ee : “What do you think of this costume for an Indian princess?” said Issalene, suddenly, from behind them, leaning over Blanche’sg chair, her dusky hair shaken loose and a quantity of gold woven fantastically through it, her arms and shoulders nearly bare, and a gorgeously - striped silk training about her, “T should think it would do very well,” said Miss Gardiner; “or for a Gipsy queen, or for a Rebecca, with the addition of some jewels.” “Or the ‘Bohemian Girl,’” added Issalene, ‘¢ with this dress shortened. Pll run to my room and get necklace and bracelets and show you the effect.” ; A brilliant party gathered in Mrs, Wilde’s drawing-rooms, to witness the tableaux that night, and the entertainment was voted asuc- cess} 5 the dancing, and the fine supper, may sie ve much todo with Ds as the impromptu art spectacle, Certainly, two per- sous! at Wilde Manor secretly decided that the whole matter of the tableaux was @ brilliant one, since it had been the means of betraying into their hands some decidedly trump cards, ao THE PRETTY wv 4 ¢ ~ -. One of these persons was Flossy Rodwell. In stepping upon a newly-built balcony, back of the improvised stage, she made a misstep, and fell upon the gravel-walk, and fainted, in the moonlight, with only Henrion Wilde near. Knowing that she could not be much hurt, and not wishing to interrupt the tableau that was just being arranged within, Henrion simply raised the girl’s head and shoulders within his arms, and wet his handkerchief Spon the dew rass and bathed her forehead. most instant- y Miss Rodwell’s eyes came open, and she com- prehended the entire situation. ‘Tt is you!” she said, softly. ‘‘Oh! I am so glad!” and she dropped her head most decidedly upon his breast and closed her eyes. ‘You are not hurt?” he asked, anxiously. “No, I think not,” sighed Flossy, languidly; “only [am so faint. But, don’t call any one; it will pass away in a moment, and I do hot care to alarm them. Would you mind helping metostand? I think I can stand, if you wi be so kind as to let me rest on your arm a little.” So they stood—Henrion leaning against the balcony, and Flossy leaning against his shoulder, his arm about her waist, and her head drooping nearer and nearer his. . Presently Miss Lorri- mer stepped upon the balcony, from her part in the tableau, just as Flossy had hoped she would, and saw those two figures in the moonlight, She turned scornfully away, and Miss Flossy uickly recovered; but she had worked the mis- chief she desired, Miss Lorrimer was so chill- ing in her manners to Henrion Wilde, for the next two days, that he let her go away from the manor without making the proposal to. her that he had intended; and Flossy was left evi- dent possessor of the field. But, if something unpleasant had happened to Miss Lorrimer that, night, she was not the only person at Wilde Manor startled into seri- ous annoyance, Just before retiring, Miss Gardiner wrote a note to Guy Chandor, and then opened her poe to take from it the writing she ad promised to show Blanche; but the papers were no longer there, Vainly Agnes searched every compartment of pocket-book and drawer; the torn envelope and the penciled scrap of leaf were unmistaka- bly, gone. But, where had they gone and through what agency? Not even in regard to her adventure with the envelope had Agnes been so seriously puzzled, She could not, and would not, believe that Blanche Lorrimer was in any way responsible for this theft, and who else in that house knew of Agnes’s connection with Elise’s history, or of h | eemmenrt of these papers? And while yer ed to satisfy her- self as to how and why these papers had disap- sein the fact remained that all clew to lise’s whereabouts was again lost, CHAPTER XVI. ; GUY CHANDOR, “‘ HAVE you heard that Mrs. Wilde expects a new apr: to the manor, to-day?” asked Agnes, lightly, of Carl Van Alst at the breakfast-table, the day that she bad appointed for Mr. Chan- dor’s coming. “No. Is it any one in whom I can possibly be interested?” “You might be,” suggested Mrs. Wilde, laughingly, ‘‘if you knew the secret of his com- in “Why, is there a secret about it? I hate se- erets; but I hope my hatred will not extend to the guest. You said it was a gentleman, did you not?” ‘* He is a Mr, Guy Chandor, of Denver.” “‘Guy Chandor! I beg your pardon for m carelessness, Miss Agnes, 4 see did not spi any coffee upon your dress. Wilde, may I trouble you to send me another spoon?” “Mrs. Wilde,” said well, giving over her efforts to engage Henrion in any con- tinuous conversation, “is this Mr. Chandor young, and unmarried? You really ought to e kind and tell us all about him.” “But as it happens that I can answer none of those questions, my dear, 1 shall have to refer you to Miss Gardiner.” “Oh, that’s the secret, is it?” said Flossy, flip- antly; “then of course he isn’t married, and © is nice-looking! Isn’t he, Miss Gardiner?” _“*He is married, but, as I have never seen him, I cannot answer for his looks.” ‘Oh, there does seem to be a secret!” remark- ed Carl, with a slight trace of annoyance in his voice that only es detected. “Hardly,” said Miss Gardiner, calmly; ‘‘it is true,as Mrs, Wilde intimated, that he comes PURITAN... / | | | no possible connection with them. No,” she ah Y > Seed fe? > ae) ] ; | wa : gee here as my guest. He married the sister of my dearest friend and schoolmate; through that lady and her husband he has had an introduc- “4 tion to me, and, on his way to Europe, stops to 4 see me cn some business.” ay i ‘How is it,” asked Carl of Agnes, watching ; her attentively, when they had left the table, ‘‘that Mr. Chandor’s wife does not accompany : m “T don’t know,” answered Agnes, erent | =! ly, “that I have any right to canvass t Chandor’s affairs with a person who can have _ adied, lightly, “I had better not tell you.” ' all that he wished to | slightest interest In being made acquainted with : _ arrived at the manor, and he was almost im- aa “Oh, all right,” laughed Carl; “I’ve not the this stranger’s affairs; but I hope that when re you are . Van Alst you will refrain from | mixing yourself up with other people’s private business matters,” ' Pi, ‘When Iam Mrs, Van Alst,”returnedAgnes, — with perfect serenity, ‘‘ Mr. Van Alst will rind it quite unnecessary for him to make any sug- gestions to me, concerning my movements and conduct, as it is now.” “You are mistaken, my lady, if you so flat- ter self!” muttered Carl to himself as they Pp with smiling courtesy. It was just luncheon-time when Guy Chandor mediately conducted in té' that meal by Miss Gardiner; they were quite well acquainted and’ at their ease by the time he requested of her a private interview. as Despite Mrs. Wilde’s gracious invitations, he & maintained his intention of returning to the s. city by an afternoon train,so that soon after ; luncheon Agnes pro sed.a promenade along ~_ v v es the shady manor walks while she related to him ‘ i the circumstances which he was so anxious to ¢ ear, ve “ What a splendid girl she is!”.Guy thought, as Miss Gardiner joined. him upon themarble balcony, with a jaunty garden hattied over her — heavy braids. ‘I don’t wonder that Eric was rey so enthusiastic in his description of her.” t. “Tam afraid,” commenced Agnes, seriously, as they sauntered down the shady walks, “that Ihave a great disappointment in store for you.” , “You must know, since you have heard allof = the sad affair which we are about to: discuss, that I am not unused. to disappoinsments by this me, ; ‘Yes, indeed,” answered Agnes, thy. mt ‘You must have suffered so terribly through ai disappointments and suspense, alone, thatIal- = most dread to tell you that I am unable to ful- fill Mr. Lysson’s trust, and put into your hands the torn envelope, and the bitof paper which = we hoped might prove aids to youinafurther search for Mrs. Chandor.” * **You have lost them?” ; “Yes, and. in the strangest manner,” and - ys pe ita related her discovery of the disappearance ’ 7 ae of the papers. 4 “ Might you not have lost them at some time when using your portemonnaie?” ap iy Sa “It is hardly possible, since I have had occa- sion to use it but once, recently, and then I as- sured myself of their safety.” ‘What persons could have had any interest in abstracting them?” m a “There is no one whom Ican suspect,”replied = es, rson who knew of their ey + 4. a reatly criance d the mystery which pa se gad, S ry ° , and all that Rachel told youcon- — cerning . Stanford?’ gic sla Agnes gave Mr. Chandor a fullaccount of her stay in New York, and the discovery that the Lyssons had made. <a “‘Tshall go to see Mrs. Stanford, probably to- = morrow, and thenI shall resort to advertising,” ee Guy. said, sane: geiey a when Agnes had told ow. ‘Have youever , _ thought, Miss Gardiner,” he questioned, sudden- ry | ly, looking straight into her face, with the first real smile that she had seen upon hisown—a smile that shot brilliant lights into his fine tke ert eyes and glorified his Saxon fair face, ‘that poet connection with this mystery of minehas \ na very strange one?”
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* : Se > eRe Z : Jha: | eae na : 4 ' \ , 1 an ad f&gnes marveled, for days afterward, that. that’ smile, and those words had affected her with a strange thrill of mingled pain and pleas- ure, of foreboding and expectation. But she - amswered, calmly: “Yes, but it ceases, now; and I am afraid without having been productive of any good.” ‘Perhaps it has to me,” said Guy; “and I ate he added, very softly and solemnly, i i “i through it no harm will ever come to » you »‘*Oh, Iam sure there will not,” Agnes an- swered, smiling; though, strangely enough for her, she felt a trifle uncomfortable and nervous - under the serious gaze of those slightly sad blue eyes, The walked on silently for a time, then Mr. Chandor asked: _ Was Miss Lorrimer the only’ person here { who was formerly acquainted with Elise?” 7 **No, there was Mrs. Lorrimer and a Miss Sanfrey; but they only met her through a short visit that she paid to Blanche. Neither of them Imew anything of her history’ after she left Vassar, and Blanche promised not to reveal it,” “Well,” said Guy, dismissing the subject.with : another of his rare smiles, “I am greatly” your _ . debtor for this conversation, and I should be pleased to know that our acquaintance was not to end here and now.” “Tt need not,” replied Agnes, ‘if you will do me the honor of continuing it. I leave here in a few days, for my own home; and my mother ' and myself _us a visit at Meadow Grange, It is in New ‘sey, just a pleasant little ride from town.” teat ix ben me er- _ “Not unless you ing Seb) return to Europe as late as November. e take up our abode in New York during that month.” _ “TJ shall surely see you again, since I have I cannot, just yet, say ou to paee om . i. “Then you will not be persuaded to stay?” i! . . “No, thanks to Si and your kind hostess just the same; but I feel that my first duty lies in New York,” he answered, his face darkening. Several persons were onnging on the Veran- da as Mr. Chandor and Miss Gardiner appeared, ~) walking up the broad drive. _ “ Aren’t they a splendid-looking couple?” ask- ed Flossy well of Mr. Van Alst. es ‘*Do you think so?” he returned, indifferent- ; yan! ' &* Yes, indeed!” retorted Flossy, maliciously: “he is just the sort of man Miss Gardiner ought to marry.” .. “Perha ar. 1 smilingly. And few persons could have guessed ‘eas upon ted Pacha ots of ane veranda, she smiling, an ankly laying her sly > es Bes BPG CHAPTER XVII. _ “OF ONE THAT LOVED NOT WISELY BUT TOO he very sl iy, itlise red. Be. ' | SLOWLY. y slowly recove , : 1g, the doctor said: be- would not let her die, ‘weakness, h Poa att pts to see me will be of any avail in changing € Ba mm, Unalterable secrecy is your safest course, bg “if you-wish to preserve yoursel? and child from & vy (Mae. 68 Glegraoe. ery nied ae ae THE PRETTY PU would be delighted to have you pay - “Thank you; but shall I not see you in town?” | ey Lae net ey ee oS ieee * Bees PE Coe ws § Fi - Now, indeed, Elise knew that her last hope had failed her. Alan had ceased to love her! For hours she lived and moved with that thought burning itself into her brain, with that one only gleam of consciousness about her. Then she be- gan to think of death and life. She wished she was dead, yet she did not want to die. It seemed to her that there was nothing more to die for than to live for, unless she could be as- sured that death was an end of all things—that there was no life, no consciousness, no anything, beyond. But now came back to her, wit strange force, words and teaching she had heard in childhood: and she shrunk from death as she did from life; though if Alan had been with her it seemed to her that she could have died easily; but without him she could do noth- ing—die nor live—she thought. But many and mary a soul, in like bitter sorrow, has thought the'same and yet lived on. So it was with Elise. And with each day that she lived, the horror of her postin. the intensi- ty of her lonelinéss seemed to increase, Now that she had once known the joy of being loved and petted, caressed and pro d, notwith- standin the bitter experience that had follow- ed, she found that it was impossible to return to her old self-sufficient life. She longed for a companion, for friends. Many times a day her voice broke forth in a pitiful cry for “ Alan!” And, by degrees, her heart went out, also, to- ward those others who were bound to her by ties of relationship; until, at last, she wrote a letter—an incoherent, heart-broken letter—to Rachel; saying that she was sick, and alone, and begging for her child’s sake that her sister would come to her, or write to her, and tell her what she should do, , Even to Rachel she confessed none of her his- LS pee? ' homestead. tory, and to her parents she never thought of writing. If any one would be kind to her, Rachel would; if Rachel failed her, then all the world had failed her! For Elise was all uncon- scious of the mother-love that underlay Mrs. Wallbridge’s fretful and bigoted external na- ture, and of the stern sense of justice and dut that would have led her grave father to do all that he could for this erring daughter. And Rachel failed her! The days passed, but no letter came from Denyer. Then Elise made one last resolve; since all the world was against her, she would seek to find Alan—despite his de- eree—seek to win from him some compassion. If sight of her was powerless to reawaken his old affection, and he refused to care for her, she would die—she cared ‘not how, she could find some way! : So Miss Smith came into her room one day and found ‘her packing. r “Surely thee is not going away?” she cried, in ed ah “Yes, I am,” said Blise. ; “To thy friends? I hope thee is going to thy friends.” . “T have no friends,” said the girl, bitterly; “so we are going to New York, baby and I.” ‘Not to Mr, Torrence?” “Yes; if he will not come here, we will at feast be near him.” Miss Smith was silent. She had learned how useless it was to try to persuade this girl to re- had, or conquer her love she might once have thought was working for Alan, But now a new in the Quakeress’s mind. ““My child,” she said, “‘T have thought much of thy case; and I believe thee tells the truth about thy marriage to Mr. Torrence. If, as thou sayest, there was a ceremony performed, it is thy duty, to thyself and to thy babe, to prove it,” : “But how can I prove it?” said Elise. “I have told you that it was in the country. Ido not know the name of the place, nor the minis- ter’s name; and Alan kept the paper.” ‘* But if it was near here, Philadelphia papers must be redd there, and thee might adver- tise.” “T never thought of that,” said Elise; “but | derful degree. isto k to friends | you Moped ro Sap eR ER Re he taee | are not more glad to have me home again than ' Tam to be here. what good* would it do? Would it make Alan | live with me again, and love me?” Love for Alan was the mainspring of her life. Poor thild! Hers was one of those natures where love takes deep root, and clinging to the object of its affection thence draws all its sus- tenance. é “* What would it do?” cried Miss Smith, energetically, ‘‘ Why, thee mayst be able to prove thy honor, and thy baby’s honor, in spite of thy wicked husband.’ “*Oh, don’t!” said Elise, putting up her hand with a look of pain. ‘‘ Don’t, talk about Alan! But I will advertise, if you think I had better, LT searcely know wliat to say. Perhaps: though you will help me.’ af BS OAS ‘the quiet city which ha she J x ' ’ ~ ann notceshen— “«Willingly, my child.” Elise continued her eee goe for leaving been for a brief season her home, and, in the meantime, several of the Philadelphia papers, dailies and weeklies, con- tained a ‘‘ personal,” asking that the clergyman who, on a certain date, at some country place, a few miles from Philadelphia, had performed the marriage ceremony for a Mr. Alan Tor- rence—using the gentleman’s seal-ring, instead of a wedding-ring, which had been forgotten— would call upon, or send his address, to Rebecca Smith, —— —— street. ; All along, Elise had thought the venture | hopeless. Alan had said. that she was not his i wife, that she could substantiate no claims against him, and she believed that it must beso. Still, the two Quaker ladies had coaxed her to stay on with them, several days beyond the time that she had fixed for her departure to New York. At last, however, Elise would wait no longer. She had secured a good woman for nurse and companion, and the day of her journey had come. But that very morning, while she stood at Miss Smith’s parlor window, she saw a man come slowly along the pavement, and up the three little white steps, upon the little white stoop of Mrs. Smith’s house—an elderly. man, dressed in plain but neat clerical black, witha face that she had seen before; it was the face of the clergyman who bad married her! CHAPTER XVIIL MEADOW GRANGE, Two ladies walked in the sunny porch that stretched along the front of a fine old Jersey It was a low, rambling, picturesque house, that had been in the possession of a family of Gardiners, descending from father to eldest son for over a century. The first Gardiner, an Englishman of noble birth, had built the house after a good old English style; but, until late ears, it had so often been rebuilt in this place, mm down in that, and added to in another, that now it was a fantastic mixture of queer little gables, dormer windows, square, old-fash- ioned windows with tiny diamond-shaped panes, long French windows of plate-glass, balconies and wings, the whole softened to mellow mossy tints by generations of sun and rain, and over- run with great vines of that “rare old plant— the ivy green.” — The broad porch, almost level with the ground, over which many childish feet had scampered, and in which many a maiden had listened to words of love, was the one place that, for a half-century, had not been molested by the in- novatin nee of progress. .And here, in the yellow October sunshine, walked Agnes Gar- diner and her mother, Mrs, Gardiner was a tall, fine-looking, elderly woman, with Agnes’s clear, pallid complexion and reddish brown hair; indeed, there wus a striking resemblance between the two ladies, and they might almost be taken for sisters, ra- ther than mother and daughter, for Mrs. Gar- diner still retained her youthful looks to a won- ‘‘Dearest mamma,” Agnes was saying, ‘‘ I wonder,” she added, sud- denly, with a charming touch of emotion, such as she never betrayed before others than her mother, ‘‘how I ever came to promise to go away from Meadow Grange, forever!” and her eyes wandered down the aepske old-fashioned avenue, with the mossy turf sloping away from it on either side, in one expanse of unbroken green, and rows of trees interlacing their leafy boughs, above it, and on, to where the highway was shut out by splendid hedges, and the high- lands uprose in the at golden distance. ** Agnes, darling?” Mrs. Gardiner said, in her low, musical, tender way, and there was an in- tonation of surprise and inquiry that made the words a question. ‘*Oh, no, mamma! Don’t be thinking that!” Agnes answered, swiftly. ‘‘I am not regret- ting my engagement—not in the least. I am sure that when you know Mr. Van Alst you will think with me that it is in every way a de- | sirable one.” “T hope so, Agnes, for much as I have desired that you, alm the last of an old and noble family, should marry well, [ have never de- aay bi) to marry for wealth alone.” ‘* Well, mamma, Mr. Van Alst belongs to a good old German family. His parents. died when he was quite a child, and he received a superior education under the supervision of his grandfather; or, rather, under his a wre su- pervision, for I believe he first attended Ameri- _
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>, = , FP ae > . /? t a = ’ ‘ : 7 : 7 4 ¢ f . oy ¥ : y ! can schools and then returned to Germany, and went through a university course.” ““T supposed he was the child of Mr. Van Alst’s eldest son,” said Mrs. Gardiner. ** Yes.” said Agnes; ‘‘I say yes, mamma, for I suppose he was, as his grandfather left him the greater part of his immense fortune.” ** And the remainder to Carl’s uncle?” ‘No, it seems that some years ago the old gentleman settled a portion upon Mr. Frederick _, Van Alst, who was already rich; his will pro- vided that the remainder of his property was to be divided, at his death, between his two grand- children, each being an only child, upon the condition that they married each other, imme- diately upon learning of the proviso.” ‘‘ And they did?” - ‘* Yes; Gertrude Van Alst'was an invalid, and in Germany for her health at the time; and I think that Carl believed that his cousin was | fond of him, so he fulfilled the conditions of the will. But his wife lived a few months only, and was buried, with a long line of Van Alsts, in Germany; and two-thirds of her property re- verted to her father.” ; “ Still, Mr. Carl Van Alst is very wealthy?” “Very, mamma, and handsome, decidedly handsome.” ‘‘ And a noble man, an honorable man, Ag- nes?” OF “Why, yes, mamma, as far as one can know anything about a man whom they meet in so- ciety, I take Mr. Van Alst to be a perfectly honorable man. I do not think him a religious man in the least; so much of his life has n spent in Germany that he has imbibed a great many German, infidel views; and, perhaps, he is inclined to be a little dictatorial, but possibly all lovers are that. Certainly, he is a most de- voted and ardent lover, and I have met no other man whom I have thought so desirable for a husband.” The ladies walked silently for a time, and then Mrs. Gardiner said, gently: “ Agnes, you are not a woman whose heart it is easy to win; but when you do love, you will give a royal and passionate devotion, of which you, as yet, hardly know yourself capable. Are you sure that Carl Van Alst is the man to awaken and minister to the deepest and warm- est capabilities of your nature?” ‘1 doubt,” answered Agnes, with just the slightest shade of sadness and dissatisfaction in her voice, “if any woman thoroughly loves un- til she is married, and grows more and more to depend upon her husband for affection and con- dence; but I am sure that I like Mr. Van Alst ~—better than any man I have ever met.” Agnes spoke these last words forcefully; but rather as if because they had been commenced they must be finished, and there came a sudden Strange flush and light to her cheeks and eyes. A carriage was rolling rapidly along the avenue _ toward the house, and Mrs. Gardiner hastily kissed her daughter upon the cheek, and whis- red: “God grant that the ait age prove a most Satisfying love, my dear;” then she turned to See who was their visitor. “It is Mr. Chandor,” said Agnes. “I am pies you are to have the pe of meetg ,,mamma,” and the light in her eyes h not died away when Guy Chandor came upon the perch with outstretched hand. You see I have accepted your invitation, and in a hasty and informal manner for which I must ask your pardon, But I shall trespass ‘| upon your hospitality for an hour only.” _ Oh, do not say that,” said Agnes, tikning to _ introduce him to her mother; “we should be so sre to have you remain and make us a real Visit. But Mr. Chandor soon proved that impossible; he was on his way to Philadelphis. timore, and Washington, intending to ad- vertise and make search for Elise in all of those Cities, since it was from one of those plac probably from Baltimore or Philadelphia, iat the man had traveled who had given to Mrs. uP Guantord the torn envelope ad to Mrs, andor, “And now,” said Guy, smiling, ‘I must tell ou why I have stopped here, and p: re you or my request. I have been to see Stan- ford; and have discovered that Mrs. Stanford is, really, Mrs. Chandor.” CHAPTER XIX. A LOVER’S QUARREL. Mr. CHANDOR’s announcement botb Mrs, Gardiner and Agnes into momentary si- 4ence. Then A; : = ai ms 1 4 ve : - ‘ af F E / ‘ ‘ te F ’ i« a , / . probabl es cried: = i “Mrs, Chandor' Surely not—” and then sho a ag - + te . the reason that she is not with him is somuch = in future, to have no te with gentle =» leftin knew how I hated thisman, ‘Zt 2 , ‘“You forget,” said Agnes, coolly, “that 1 me have no husband!” Then she went on; very — RY, calmly: ‘‘ Overayear ago Mr. Chandor married A the only sister of an old friend and schoolmate = of mine. The day after their marriage, Mrs. 4 Chandor disappeared, and nothing was ever Us learned concerning her, until I went to New =" upon; and m poe sate ta todoand. act asI please, sterhe, abr ow you toin inge i, upon. we cannot un and acce ty ches conditions, absolutely, now; it is aes " “PR for us to e: to be an @toeach otherin = __ the future.’ \ ; ie Heya aepeeneesacin mised roeg e! Onhin 24) that: ized that he must ree ‘Hinauish any attempts to rule this woman yet. ie ’ AW eee, V5 SE
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-— “ \ Foe ta ‘ A W him, he fi and _ never to be a socie ** Do tell me what it is!” 80 devoted if ie eg: --Piqug and glen 8 « seta ad iy . be nes on wots Sen's a eee A ee oases HE pgs aioe eak ah. ie ae PRETTY PURITAN. _ , y y -. for*he could not lose her—this one love of His— and so, as she turned her fair, proud face from ung his arms about her, and held her close to his breast, and assured her, again and again, that it was his love for her—his mad, unreasoning, passionate love—that had awak- ened this demon of jealousy within him. That he had not half known what he had said, but that he regretted it all, and would not again of- fend, And then he pictured his love so vividly, ( ed her such endearing names, and wooed her with such charming grace, that Agnes could but forgive his jealous outbreak, and seal her ep Li a pbhyors with a few of the kisses for which 3 Carl so thirsted, and she so seldom voluntarily bestowed, CHAPTER XX. . THE SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS. _ Buancus. Lorrmer came from the street into the warm, luxurious parlor where Issalene sat reading, bringing a breath of the November sunshine and crispiness with her, as well as brilliantly blue eyes full of happy lights, and cheeks rivaling the fairest peach that had ever bloomed to npn under summer suns. “*Tssalene, I’ve quite a budget of news for you,” she announced, gayly, as she tossed her retty silken muff upon a chair, and commenced wing off her daintily-fitting gloves. ‘* Well?” said Issalene, lazily. ‘‘'The Wildes and the Gardinersare in town.” “Oh, that is no news at-all, Their cards came this morning. Mrs. Gardiner receives to- morrow, and Mrs. Wilde Thursdays. Isup we must call. What a bore it is—this ing and receiving calls from people you hate.” “How absurd you are, Issa. You ought woman, if you are going to hate more than half the people you meet, an not want to fulfill any social duties.” “*T have no desire to be a society woman!” said Issalene, contemptuously. ‘I only go in society, this year, because papa and mamma de- sire it. But, to have the greater part of my life filled by the demands of other people upon my time, is not my ideal of happiness.’ ‘Oh! you have an ideal!” laughed Blanche. “To marry a man I love, and devote m life utterly to him!” announced Issalene, decid- edly. oe Of course, every girl, when she marries, ought to make her husband the chief considera-~ tion in her life, but that need not prevent her from maintaining her position as well. Your ideas are ridiculously romantic. Would you be ou married Mr. De Lancy?” cy!” exclaimed Miss Sanfrey, ‘‘] think it is positively rude of you, to mention his name so often, when you know how I despise him, and even to hear Mr. De _. + of him! “But you see I cannot very well help men- posi when he comes here nearly every 4S og the know that I take excellent care not to see ; “Yes, I know,” said Blanche, dryly, “that ou take excellent care to let mamma and I en- rtain visitors of whom you are not over fond; but I think that it would be evidence of im- proving good manners in you, if you would as- sume a little of your own responsibility in re- gard to visitors who come pre-eminently to see ou, ‘But I sha’n’t see him!” said Issalene, defiant- Jy. ‘So you can spare yourself any more talk an a it; and aunt Lorrimer may tell him so, advise him to quit visiting here, as quickly as she likes.” “Oh, you may change your mind in regard 4 to him, by and by; and it would bea sbame to have sent him beyond recall,” said Blanche, with provoking coolness. ‘‘ But you have not asked me concerning the rest of my news.” *“T sup that you had told it all,” replied -Issalene, sulkily. ‘Oh, no! I have two engagements to an- nounce.’ ; ¢ What young lady is not interested at the men- i ement? Issalene forgot’ her up with quick inquiry. Whose, pray?” “Well, Rodwell is engaged, for one.” . “Oh, really! Then Mr. Wilde has succumb- ed, at last, to the charms of her floating hair and er affected airs and graces.” “No!” retorted Blanche, with a md ring of umph in her clear voice, ‘‘ it isnot Mr. Wilde _ who has succumbed, but our dapper little En ‘lishman, Willis Leonard.” D. “Qh! Well, I would rather he should have oem into her hands than any of the other men tried to attract. How shedid set her can at ah See Ash NPE wie i Sar x me Re an a Pa AS Re SR RS AR ca RR aE Sn Rs ee a. RNS Re ER I he Sr Se ee Te a ae hs : - . ; A uP RA. Pee tal Sg ‘a " ‘ p > : Mr. Richmond, and Hention Wilde, and ¢ven | ‘Yes; John Richmond, and quite a party of uncle Frederick.” 5 “Tt is a wonder that Carl escaped scot-free.” * He did not. She laid siege to him in the be- ginning, and gave him up in despair.” ‘Well, I suppose some one else was more suc- cessful in laying siege to Carl’s heart. Agnes Gardiner is engaged. omen Gardiner! Engaged! ss , to Carl, probably!” “ And I think probably not!” retorted Issa- lene, decidedly. ‘I have excellent reasons for believing that Carl Van Alst has not the slight- est intentions of ing Agnes Gardiner. Why, don’t you know that the Gardiners are meade poor? nae Page manage to keep in so- ciety, and when Mrs. Gardiner dies Agnes will not have a cent in the world, as the pro- perty upon which they live will go toan old uncle, the last male Gardiner. Carl told me this himself; and do you think he is likely to marry such a girl?” “T do not know why he should not. Miss Gardiner is of a good family, and a perfect lady, and Carl has money enough to m whom he pleases. It was Marion Dare who told me. I met her upon the avenue—she has come to spend the winter with the Wildes—and when she said Miss diner was engaged I never thought to ask her to whom, for I supposed of course it was to Car]. Still, as yousay, hemay not be the favored one. Miss Gardiner is fas- cinating and greatly admired; andI have heard that she has a great many offers.” “She isn’t my style!” said Issalene, witha little sneer. ‘Of course not!” laughed Blanche. ‘Who is, [wonder? By the way, Mrs. Wilde givesa dinner next week, a very ropa me little affair, to in luce to a few friends a new candidate for social favor—a Mrs. Chandor, who has quite a romantic history.” ‘‘Mrs. Chandor!” cried Issalene, with a little “Yes; her husband is a wealthy young Frenchman, and she, Marion says, is a perfect little fairy. He met and married her South, somewhere, and they have lived under an as- sumed name, for fear his father would disin- herit them. But now the father is dead, and they are very wealthy, and_will settle in New York. Mr. Chandor is in Europe and will not return until next month; but she has been visit- ing the Gardiners, and has rooms with them at the Everett House; and now Mrs. Wilde has taken her up.” “Mrs. Wilde must always have some one to pet,” said Issalene. ‘* When is she going to give the dinner?” “Next Tuesday; and we are to be included among the favored few.” T doubt if Ishall go,” remarked Issalene. ‘“T do not care for such little dinner-parties; be- sides, it is the very night before our ‘ coming- out’ ball. «I suppose you and aunt Lorrimer will so I can easily excuse eg ne By the way, ye can we not go to Madame Lem- mouroy’s to-day to see about our dresses?” ““T have been there, this morning, and given all the orders for mine. Igrew tired of wait- for you to decide what you would have.” To whom?” been, I will not trouble you to go ee “What have you chosen?” asked Blanche. “A heavy si with the laces mamma sentme. And papa has commissioned uncle Frederick to buy me dia- monds—ear-Tri necklace and bracelets, and he is to go me to-morrow to purchase — them. “ You will be sure to look handsome,” admit- ted Blanche, *‘and to quite outshine me; for I shall have to waive diamonds, and be contented with the opals mamma is having reset for ” Just as Blanche made this honest confession a servant announced: ‘‘Mr. Henrion Wilde.” ing, Miss Sanfrey.. { must beg your pardon for the informality of this my first visit, but I did not reach town until late last night, too late to avail myself of the privilege of calling upon you—though I knew that it was your reception evening.” ‘“‘Tam sure we have only to thank remembering us so soon,” Blanche said, with a cordiality that was so c ing after her hauteur of the last few days they had spent together, that Henrion was at his ease at once. “Oh, 1 was sure to do that; all through Octo- ber, while I was up in Maine, I looked forward to renewing our co onship of the past sumi- mer.” r “‘Then you have been away?” said Issalene. ae ; f 2 w* Tex* ah of pale lemon color, trimmed | ou for to get home. 'us gentlemen, thought we would try our hand | ata hunting expedition up in the backwoods; and we have been roughing it finely.” | ‘But you enjoyed yourselves, I suppose,” said Blanche, with a shade less of warmth her manner this time. ON: aca Still I must say I was glad A little of that sort of life goes a great way, and I am rather partial to civiliza- tion myself.” “And the eR de of feminine companion- ship? suggested Issalene, lightly. “ Certainly; what would civilization be with- out that?” laughed Henrion. ‘‘ And that sug- rab that I accept verbally the invitation for Lorrimer’s ball I found awaiting me at home. Please present to her my compliments, and say that nothing would induce me toforego | ou? _ Sick so easily, and just When the ** Good-morning, Miss Lorrimer. Good-morn- — , thought best not to question | commenced to tell her, in a lively way. she had called, the society gossip she had heard, — | to her cousin’s room, the pleasure of paying her my respects upon that occasion. And though I understand that that is to be aformal introduction of you young ladies to society, I hope you do not keep your- selves in such strict seclusion at present as to make a plan I have for to-morrow night a fail- ure, I met your guardian, Mr. Van Alst, and CarlVan Alst, at the club-room this morning, and we agread to make up an Pye Niggas for to-morrow night, to hear Lucca. Mrs. and Miss Gardiner, and my cousin Marion are going, and I hope that Mrs. Lorrimer and yourself will consent to join us.” ‘*T cannot answer for mamma, but I shall be happy. to gacept the invitation, and so, I pre- sume, will Issalene.” ** Certainly,” said Sanfrey. i “By the way,” said Henrion, when,‘a few minutes later, he arose to leave, ‘* I suppose you have heard of Miss Gardiner’s engagement to Carl Van Alst?” | ““Yes, I met Marion this morning, and she told _me,” responded Blanche, as she walked slowly with him toward the hall. When she turned again Issalene had left the arlor, and Miss Lorrimer exciaimed, bitter- Vie He tells of Agnes’s engagement; but he never mentions Miss Rodwell’s. I wonder if he could have been_in love with that girl? At least I will never let him make me forget that scene.” : And by constantly omen the picture of those two figures she had seen in the moonlight at Wilde Manor, Blanche endeavored to steel ber heart against the man who was so near to winning her love. CHAPTER XXL CHECKMATED. fe ISSALENE was not well the evéhing of the opera-party; she complained of a severe head- ache after going early with her uncle Frederick to select her diamonds, and declined to accom- sg her aunt and cousin upon a round of calls. 0 . Lorrimer and Blanche went together. and paid a visit of congratulation to Mrs. an Miss Gardiner, and consulted Madame Lem- mouroy again concerning the dresses for the party, and completed some other arrangements ding to the success of that coming social ing ; : | event. I have decided now; but since you have | As soon as Blanche Reached home, she ran up The apartment was dark- ened, a0t, Issalene was tossing restlessly upon e bed. ‘“‘Tssalene, are you no better? Shall you not be able to go to the opera to-night” “T have no desire to go,” said Issalene, peevishly, “Why, what is the matter?” asked Blanche, anxiously, as she caught a glim frightfully pale face, from which her dark eyes gleamed feverishly. ‘Is it o your head?” “Of course it is only my head,” returned the tulantly. ‘You don’t on 1 People don’t get want to.” Miss Lorrimer could not but believe that something’ more than a mere headache ailed Issalene, to make her look so wretchedly and talk so strangely. Stillshe knew that her cou- sin was Page vee of anything but an amiable disposition when any ill troubled her, so she her further, but where Cuban girl, a: think ‘that Pr aick) and the further arrangements that had been made for the ball; to all of which Miss Sanfrey , listened with few comments; and, finally, after Ss en Se asking what she should send up for dinner, Miss Lorrimer arose to go, As she reached the door Bagh eile om is to be one of ene, who do you suppose one our party to-night?” ma hy i “i oe Ae i hoy ne : of Issalene’s | : |
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“Who? askdd Issalone, indifferently. ““ Jack Jaffrey! I have not seen him, until to- ' @ay, in an age; and he used to come here so much when we were school-girls.” Miss Sanfrey made no answer to the an- nouncement, so Blanche closed the door softly and left her to herself. But the moment that ber cousin was out of her room, Issalene sprung from the bed, and commenced pacing the floor, uttering, fiercely: @ ‘What does she want to come here for, and to me about Jack Jaffrey, or any one who was connected with Alan, and those dear old days? For they were dear days!” she said, sto ing before her long mirror to regard her whi ace and arena © ‘““Yes, dear days! though be was ma ng ove to that Wallbridge irl. But he tired of her—she was just the girl or aman like Alan to tire of—and there was - bope for me until this new fancy of his! But now he will never love me! Never love me? And yet has he not just lately told me, in a thousand ways, that he loved mef_ But men hike Alan Torrence are never true! I ought to - bave known it! What a fool I have been to be- lieve him at all—to be for one hour his dupe! But he shall find that I am not to be ed with; that because he has not written to my fa- ther, nor spoken to uncle Frederick, and openly asked my d, he cannot fool me at his will! and she clenched her little pens one resumed her rapid verge face fairly livid and her eyes blazing with passicn, evi all t h that evening she nourished her fierce resentment, even as she had for years nourished her fierce love for Alan Torrence. Through this last year of her life Issalene’s long-cherished hopes of one day winning Alan’s love had seemed well-nigh fulfilled. Indeed, al- though she saw much of him than in her early school-girl days, she had believed that her hopes were already a surety, when, suddenly, had come to her a rumor that Alan’s affections were engaged and promised elsewhere}, still she - would not admit her own heart that Alan could deceive her, until she had been suddenly | assured that this contemplated 6 was in society an accepted fact! And now what were the loves and hates of others, what were society fetes and triumphs, compared to the desolation y and the fierce desire for revenge that seared the ungovernable nature of this girl? “ When Alen Torrence received, one morning, at his club-room, a delicate envelope bearing Issalene’s superscription and crest, and contain- ing a note requesting that he would spend the evening alone with her, the night preceding Mrs. Lorrimer’s ball, he understood, Reerty, that the Cuban girl was summoning him to a wrathful interview. He knew that Issalene ' could not fail to have heard of his intended marriage, and that she would not easily relin- quish the claims she believed she had on him by right of the tender flirtation of which he had for a diplomatic reason of own, made her the victim. He thought, too, that he understood her stormy Cuban nature, and her utter im- placableness, if he failed to be true to the ex- pectations he had purposely allowed her to Cherish; still he knew that he must break his lance with her, and did not fear but that in the bitter warfare he should conquer. So he wrote her a note, saying that he should not fail to keep the appointment. Tho Tuesday of Mrs. Wilde’s little dinner- party came, and Issalene declared her intention _ of remaining at home. en her aunt and cousin were gone, and she had given orders to the servant that one only visitor was to be ad- mitted, she went into the parlor, and pacing ceaselessly up and down, waited excitedly for © be knew bls rhcigthg ‘totaly ante the he knew his 00 upon aAVve- ment, and the Pree | his hand upon the Hacr: bell, and suddenly stood still—a proud, rigid figure, with gleaming eyes and carnation-dee cheeks, while he came smiling and debonnair into her mce. * “ How kind of you, Issalene, to deprive your- self of a party, just to stay at home and see Me, “Do you think so?” said Issalene, fierily; and then her eyelids drooped, and the flame of her Passion flickered low for the moment. In his y prenencs: the consciousness of her love overcame Ei geees oan et ton, "thas ie ees she er Ne, 4s fe er in the wide weal I ‘would not deny my- or your sake?” “TT don’t know,” he laughed, throwin, Self irito an easy-chair, despite the fact that Is- galene still stood; “ women are so given to mak- : ing rash promises puly $0 break them.” ‘Alan’ cried the Cuban girl, suddenly fling- ing herself at his feet, and wreathing her arms i. ; te him-. aaa ‘ S ; $i , ‘ I ; ' . ee e Pa . 4S get oS eee ee, eo Ps ON Oe, ee Pn. — ee, gen Ae apout him, and lifting her glowing face to his, “do ae know that I would do anything for your sake ‘* And what if ot would?” he asked, forcing Peutc ei te calmly, the glowing,trembling, onate gir ; “Why, is such love a small matter? Think ua any woman will ever give i such mad, ervent passion, as I can bestow ‘“‘But suppose I do not care for such love— se ig I am weary of it?” ‘Weary of it?” exclaimed Issalene, scornful- ly. _“‘ How could you be weary of it? Do these icy Northern women understand in the least what loveis? Elise may have wearied you with her babyish fondness, but what did she, a little Puritan, with milk and water flowing in her veins, know of love like mine?” “Hush! he commanded, impatiently, fling- ing aside the tiny hands that were clasped upon his breast, and pushing from him the beautiful, uivering form. ‘‘ You have no reason for coup- s my name with that of Elise Wallbridge and no authority for doing so! And I woul advise you to get up, as my fair affiancee might not care to know of a young lady kneeling to me in this absurd fashion!” “Your affiancee!” cried Issalene, springing to her oe her face ETOWE. pale with rage. ‘What right have you to of any one as your offiancee, after all you have said to me?” “ After all that I have said to you? I believe I never said anything about marrying you, and ou yoann well posted in flirtations as myself, ene “But, there was no flirtation between us! You did not intend me to understand it was such! You knew, tocommence with, that I had loved you for years, and made me believe that you reciprocated that love!” “No, matter what you think I intended you to believe, I know that I said nothing that a man might not say, to a girl whom he had known intimately from her childhood. Cer- tainly, [have never had the slightest intention of Boktog you to be my wife, so, unless you have something of more importance to say, we had better terminate this interview.” “ But I have something of importance to say |" regarding him with stony calm, ‘Since you have seen fit to trifle wit my love, you find out how you like my hate!” ‘“Ma chere Issalene,” he said, tauntingly, “hate is not a pleasant passion for a lady to in dulge; but I assure you that I do not mind it as much as you may sv) sae ‘We will see! You said, a minute ago, that I had no authority for cou j your name with Elise Wallbridge’s. Su tell you that I have a positive proof that you were the man who induced Mrs. Chandor to desert her hus. band! And I tell Elise’s story, and your story, to the woman you propose to make your wife, and show her these proofs?” “You have no such proofs,” said Alan, coolly. “‘T have!” cried Issalene, triumphantly. “J have the envelope in which a letter was sent to Chandor, the day that she left her hus band. I know that last summer you gave that envelope to a lady upon a train coming from Washington. And I have another proof against you, in the cover of a book upon which you wrote for this lady; and she can identify you at any time. Do you think these are light proofs to take to the woman you expect to marry? re nm She be very likely to marry you en “ Listen!” said Alan, contemptuously. ‘ You think you have a strong case against me, Issa- lene; but in reality you have a miserably weak one. I will not even ask you how you me essed of these papers; nor what credit you Peink your statements will receive, if announce that before mention of them you knelt at my feet and sued for my love. But, suppose I was the man, who, as you say, gave away this en- velope—which I do not ievo you nor any one else can prove? That fact, alone, can never be any evidence that I was the person who sent it to Mrs, Chandor, nor that I have ever had anything to do with Mrs, Chandor. You tell this fact to my betrothed; it is the only one you know me; and even that you cannot substantiate. Isshe likely, whether she is mar- rying me for love, or for position, to let it stand in the bg that marriage, when the ongage- 7 has made public and the wedding-day 80 “There is not one woman in a hundred who would, at such a time, be influenced by such a matter. And my betrothed is not that one woman. So I tell you, , that you had better submit to the inevitable, with lady- ee ears Bun pan: | had sai like grace, and not mako a langhing-stock of very unpalatable advice, Mr. Alan Torrence left Issalene to the stinging cone sciousness that she was checkmated. CHAPTER XXII. THE NIGHT OF THE BALL. Wuewn Alan Torrence was gone, Issalene rush- ed to her own room, and fought the fierce battle with wounded love, and passionate desire for revenge, and stinging self-contempt, until the gray cold light of the dawning day stole dimly ae the laces at her windows and struggled for dbminion with the slender flame o es Then, desiring, with defiant pride, to look har loveliest the evening of the ball, she threw her- self upon her bed to get a little rest; and, ex- hausted by a week of conflicting passions, and the excitement of the night, soon sunk into a heavy sleep that lasted until noon and restored her to her wonted blooming beauty. She had thought deeply of what Alan had assured her—the weakness of her proofs against him as the person. who had eloped with Mrs, Chandor. In her own mind she was convinced that he was responsible for Elise’s sin; but would she be har a force upon others the same con- viction? Suppose she were to tell Blanche this story, or her uncle Frederick, would they be likely to believe anything upon slight proof against Alan, which he chose to,deny? She was conscious that they would not. How much less, then, would a woman believe it who was about to pont him; or even if she believed it, as Alan , would one woman ina hundred let that stand between them and their love or advantage, especially at a moment when to do so would bea matter for a nine days’ scandal? True, Issalone might find out Mr. Chandon, and deliver him the,papers, and put him igs n’s track; but in doing so she must reveal that she had become dishonorably papers; besides, Mr. Chandor might not succeed proving anything against Alan, or in proving anything in timeto interfere with the i The chirography upon the cover of the book wag like Alan’s, but that upon the envelope differed somewhat from and how could she know that a hundred othér men did not write a hand identical with his just as a general description of Alan might answer to a general description of many others? From the time she had overheard Miss Gardi- ner’s conversation with Blanche, concerning Elise, Issalene felt positive that Alan was the man in the case. And when, accidentally she learned of the existence of proofs i him, she had essed herself of these proo in order to protect him from exposure, or to use them as a power over him, as his conduct to- ward her should warrant. And she had firmly and triumphantly believed in their power, until she analyzed the whole matter, in the light thrown upon it by Alan. Now, she saw the weakness of her plot. But revenge she was de- termined to have! There was time enough yet, before Alan would marry, in which to res her plans. She had said once, that if Al should not love her she would kill herself—bu that she would kill him first; aud so she would! But, in the meantime, she could not banish from her mind the horrible thought that she had , declared her love for Alan, and had sued for his as he had tauntingly told her, kneeling at his feet. Her peers na slonately as it could love, re inst the thought that its love had been and Bt po nian And she swore to herself that she would show Alan that at least she could rise aint to her affection for him. That she woul y the willow for his sake! And it was with this: resolve, and the desire to accomplish it, that Issalene at last sought the slum knew she needed to restore the bloom to her oearor hae the sparkle to her eyes for the com- It was a charming trio of ladies who waited in Mrs. Lorrimer’s parlors that night to receive their guests; the fair, faded, but elegant and gentle matron, in her faultless robe of velvet, with rich old laces and a few choice diamonds completing her costume, and the two fair gir); upon her either side, each so beautiful, an 80 unlike the other in her style of loveliness, lanche wore a dress of delicate blue satin, frosted over with fine lace, and trimmed from her bare white shoulders and her slender waist, to the flounce that bordered her overskirt and revealed below her satin train, with clusters and lands of blush set in masses of dark leaves. Milky opals clasped the throat and arms that almost rivaled them in white- ness, and revealed their fiery hearts with ev: glancing of the light, and an aisretto of tho ex possessed of these ~ not for a day wear ~ r that she —
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se (pe { 7 aks eigen -velous yellow hair that made Blanche Lerrimer everywhere an object of admiration. _ ="“Tssalene’s ace rounded figure was dra in Jémon-colored silk, from which her dusky, | satiny skin shone wonderfully lovely and en- | ticing. Handsome laces, wreathed with ma- DA roon-deep velvet, completed the elaborate dress; | delicate diamond circlets glittered upon her | ‘throat and arms, a diamond drop quivered at | each tiny ear; and just where a touch of ex- | quisite lace was “To fall and rise ee nee balmy bosom. ith her laughter and her sighs,” shé had fastened a spray of blood-red roses, from out a basket of flowers sent by Mr. De Lancy. Certainly, it was hard to decide whe- ther the tall, bl ed, golden-haired Northern girl or the glowing little" maiden of a luxurious BY ‘ie ‘they stood by Mrs. Lorrimer’s side receivin a the congratulations of their ‘‘ dear five hund Ben friends.” And so the guests thought, as they has | thronged into the brilliant, flower-sweet rooms | and greeted their hostess, and ber daughter and niece, in whose honor the fete was given. Two men were there at least, who would have cast their vote for Issalene; and one was Alan Torrence, He had never seen Miss San- y look so entrancingly handsome, and he wondered how he could have so rudely repulsed this little beauty the night before. It seemed to him now, as she gave him the tips of her gloved » fingers with smiling indifference, and then turned to welcome . De Lancy, with hight- ' ened color and her bosom pulsing under her coat admirer’s rapturous glance, that ho should find it impossible to have the chance nati Med not take this exquisite piece of flesh and b into his arms, and waste upon the , full ripe lips a few warm kisses. And Hugh De was the other man whose admiration for the little Cuban was boundless. He longed te conquer the girl’s aversion for him; to capture this tropic bird for his hye cage: and he was nearer success than he dreamed. “Dance with you? I think not,” said Issalene in answer to Alan’s est for one of the three dances, ‘1 find the first two quadrilles + are reserved for Mr. De Lancy, and I shall not ion waltz: at least, not so early inthe évening.” a _Alan bowed coolly, and walked away, while oes Mr. DeLancy, who heard this pointed remark, -. | nd who had not even dreamed of asking for the dances in question, asked, eagerly: a “Is this true, Miss Sanfrey? Have you so ‘honored me as to save me these quadrilles?” ba “Tf you care for them,” said ene coquet- Bre sii on cannot doubt that,” he answered, with an ardent glance. - So Issalene placed her hand'within his arm, and, slowly and stately, they walked through | _ the first quadrille; and then—Miss Sanfrey had - said she would not waltz; would she not prom- enade with him? Yes, but it is already getting warm here,” said Issalene. ‘Do you mind going to the con- _ servatory, for a breath of fresher air?” _Her escort led her away from the glare and the crowd, and the moment they were alone I[s- | salene turned to him with gracious warnith, | saying: © Setar UT; thank you for yor lovely flowers, Mr. | — —-s DeLancy. Asa proof that I yalued them be- pas a F Phe any that were sent me, | selected a few to ee re: ving you do not mind my presumption.” Ap eae oF it! Miss Sanfrey, you do not know vy oy ber’ 5 fee a and how happy 1 should be “Tf you bet what?’ questioned Issalene, 2 etn esitated, A nig: to believe that you wore them as a slight proof of regard for the giver. You | must know, Miss Sanfrey,” he went on, fairly _. trembling with eagerness, “ that I have adored “ you from the moment we first met; and if I could win your promise to become my wife, I _ ghould consider myself the most blest of men! Am Itoo daring in my dreams, Miss Sanfrey? ' Have I ruined my cause by thus hastily declar- wath ing it, or is there some hope for me?” < ‘Am I to understand this as a proposal?” asked magtey yeh her dark velvety eyes to | ' sis face, and then shyly drooping them, “Tf you will, and let me know my fate, sweet | one!” he cried, gathering hope from her glance, | _ and seizing her pretty hands, q “Then—I have not the slightest objection to becoming haga? ; a 6 ugly, ‘forcefull ‘an 'y in again and again, 1 even left upon her bared shoulder, the girl felt cold shivers of ef ave ere wade. Te ee A Oe ei A aa ‘ne “AS a ve ae ee THE! PRETTY! PU: “quistte stones flashed and shimmered in the mar- | rep \ . ae eae od rt ee enance and disgust creeping over her frame. and freed herself a” quickly = her en clasp. “7 sup upon the first convenient opportunity,” said Is- salene. “Oh, certainly; and perhaps until to-morrow | you would not mind wearing this;” and he drew | off his glove, and from his little finger a blaz- ing diamond, which he slipped upon Issalene’s engagement finger. hey qepped by her long enough to say: ‘** Auntie, I am sure you will congratulate me —I have promised to marry Mr. De Lancy.” Mrs. Lorrimer could scarcely conceal her sur- prise, sufficiently to extend the desired con- gratulations; but she knew by the ring upon Is- salene’s finger, and the look upon her niece’s face, that the girl had determinedly made her choice. And before the evening was half over nearly évery guest had heard of the little bru- nette’s old millionaire, betrothal to the ugly ‘What a strange matc And she seemed so to detest Mr. De Lancy,” said Agnes Gardiner, as she waltzed with her lover. ““T know that she hated him, and hates him even now,” answered Carl; “but, I imagine her affections were engaged elsewhere, and not | reciprocated, and she has done this out of pique.” | Pips do you think she will marry that old | man On, + a ard 80; it would be just like her to make herse Pre: hei se ota dois : am sorry for her!” raid Agnes, gently. But the girl that was the objet of so much comment, no more meant to live to marry Hugh DeLancy, than she meant to let Alan Tor- rence live to marry the wife of his choice. CHAPTER, XXII. A MAN EXERCISES A WOMAN’S PRIVILEGE. AFTER their one difference the course of true love had seemed to run smoothly enough with Carl and Agnes; and never was there a more devoted. lover than Mr. Van Alst during the weeks that intervened between Miss Gardiner’s establishment in town and the day appointed for their ee That day was appointed for the eighteenth of December; and the reception a grand affair, was to take place at the hotel | where the Gardiners had spent their winters for many years. At first Mrs. Gardiner had thought of teking a house in town, but as Carl proposed to spend two or three months in California and the South, which would leave her alone during the greater rt of the winter and early spring, it was final- fy docited that Agnes should receive her friends at the hotel—the most elegant rooms in the | house being secured for the bridal entertain- ment. With all the social demands made upon her, and the demands of dressmakers and her lover Miss Gardiner still spared, from her limited time, an occasional hour to spend with Mrs. | Clyde Chandor, in whom she was greatly in- | terested. Mrs. Chandor had only availed her- | self of Mrs, Gardiner’s invitation to visit Meadow Grange for an exceedingly brief eee and, since her establishment in town, ad refused to make many acquaintances or to frequent any entertainments, until the return of her husband. Agnes and her mother had thought this determination quite for the best, and had made no attempt to urge her to go out, and with the exception of the little dinner-party given her by kind Mrs. Wilde, and the calls she had received from the ladies she met there, Paula had quite withheld herself from’ any companionship but that of the Gardiners. But then, she was so used to bein much alone since her marriage, and she foun such yee ah in caring for and fondling her baby, that she did not think she was missing much in foregoing the opportunities opened to her for seeing something of the society in which Clyde so desired she should be known and re- | ceived. : Toward the las6 of November, Guy Chandor had returned from his quest for Elise in Wash- | ington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia—returned unsuccessful, as he had feared that he would, though he advertisement, detective agency search, to discover some trace of her; and he: was very kind to his proms, cousin, and gave ; her many useful suggesti concerning her real entree into society; he had discov that she was en free from mauvaise grace, in- pa hg MES little lady, and quick to profit by what she saw and heard. And a well-bre: winning gentleman may, if he will, be as mu Wy ¥ y as possible from we may as well tell auntie of this | had scarcely re-entered the ball-rcom | when they met Mrs. Lorrimer, and Issalene | miserable for life for the sake of a | had made every endeavor through | and private | i Se, 1 Sager a aay pte GAB OG ‘ of a help to algirl, as regards the rules that cid Saved a eotined Bociae y Tad, as a friend ‘<T suppose you know, cousin Guy,” Paula had ' gaid to him, during their first conversation af- ter his return to New York, ‘‘that Miss Gar diner is to be married next month?” “Married next month! Impossible!” and Guy suddenly arose and walked to the window. Then, diting his lips under his fair mustache, he , said to himself, angrily: ud . | «Quy Chandor, are you a fool? It is not im- | possible! Why should it be?’ and then he went | as suddenly back to his seat opposite Paula, | whom he had startled by his vehemence. “No, I did not knowit. I did not even know | that she was engaged. You quite surprised me. Who is the man that has drawn the rare prize?” “You like Miss Gardiner?” asked Paula, naively, without answering his question. “Yes, very much, Ithink her an admirable young lady.” “‘So do L! L like her better than any lady I ever knew. Mrs. Lysson was real d and nice, but it was partly for her sister’s sake, you know. But Miss Gardiner is even nicer. She | does not make any time over you, but she } makes re feel that she is just as honest as can | be, and that you are to her just. what her treat- | ment of you shows. Why, she knows all about me, and yet she has never, by look or b gas | shown that she did not think me as worthy | her friendship as any lady born.” ‘One of our great poets says: “' ind hearts are more than coronets, | And simple faith than Norman blood.’ | Miss Gardiner believes in the theory that mind, and manners, and goodness, makes the lady. But you have not told me whom she is arry. “A Mr. Carl Van Alst—he is very rich and handsome, they say.” ‘“‘Ah, I remember! I met him at luncheon once. You him?” “No, I don’t know him, I have never even | Seen him, He came once to Meadow Grange while I was there, but he missed a train and was too late for the regular dinuer, and was | obhged to breakfast early, to get back to town to attend to some important business; and the | night of Mrs. Wilde’s dinner~ y he was not , well, and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Agnes and I ; went all together,” | ‘\tis strange that I have not heard of this | before.” | ‘*Y¥ think they have only been engaged since | the last of the summer, and it was not made | public until they came to town. ‘You will be at ' the wedding, I suppose?” “Be at the wedding! Be at the wedding!” i ag ge Guy, with a startled, far-away look. | “No, I do not think I shall be at the wedding.” ' Forgive me, cousin Guy, for asking you. I ! do not wonder that you cannot like weddings. _ But you will come and see me often, now that you are in New York?” she added, as Guy arose 0, ey cannot promise you, my little friend,” he said, gravely. “I may not be in New York ‘long. I feel like etting back to England, to rs. know him, Isuppose. Do you like , my mother and sist ; _ * And are you poing right away?” | “Very soon, I think. I have nothing for | which to stay here. But I will see you again, | before I say good-by to America.” | But it is not solely woman’s prerogsiirs to | change her mind; men occasionally avail them- | selves of that privilege. Guy Chandor decided | to postpone his return to England until his cou- ' sin Clyde arrived in New York, about the four- ' teenth or fifteenth of December. When he had made this decision, he called again Pitta dat ; and then sent his card to Mrs. and Miss Gar- diner. ' “ Ah, I thought it strange you were slighting us,” Agnes said, smiling, as he was shown into | their parlor. ‘‘ Mrs, Clyde Chandor told us you were in New York.” “T have not called before, because I ‘thought that I should only see you to say -by. But I have decided to remain here still a few weeks | / | MOP aa glad of that” Actes replied, cordially: am o : ! acai thett ied hated strangely with warmth and embarrassment as Mr, Chandor still retained her outstretched hand and gravely said: ‘¢ Allow me to congratulate you upon the ap- | oaching happy event, of w ch Thave lately 5 / 6a k ” 4 x It was al ine Be ete could say, and it was almost col . She was ° | why Guy’s’ she 4 Y toby Sy: , “4 te - ¢ aa a “4 es yee 7 Tae | < s 2h es aay |i We at ae Te re ay pe ee
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ner’, and that wistful look in his blue eyes, had suddenly filled her soul with a_ t terror of er approaching marriage, a feeling that it was tardy unsatisfactory, a desire to cry out that it must not be. Buf she resolutely conquered these impulses, eS to herself, with supreme “self-scorn, that she was getting neryous, and turned her thoughts to Mr.Chandor. She knew that it had cost him not a little to offer her his congratulations; that he was thinking keenly of his own wedding, and the mystery and pain that had followed it. “Your journey has been entirely unsuccess- ful, Mrs. Chandor tells me,” she said, reverting to the subject that she believed to be te op | his mind. Have you decided to give up further attempts to find Elise?” “T have buried all my hopes—I marvel that I ever entertainud any,” he said, almost dreari- ‘« While there is life there is hope!” exclaimed Agnes, quickly. ‘‘ Pray do not speak so despair- ingly. You make me feel that I am, in a de- gree, responsible for your latest failures. I should have guarded more carefully the papers Mr. Lysson gave to my care.” “Do not blame yourself for a moment, Miss Gardiner. I have no emp to poe that as envelope, and imens of chirography, w have auetlod tise th the least, es there had been some very marked peculiarity about them.” of ““T do not remember that there was,” replied Agnes, thoughtfully. ‘ At all events, Gardiner ”—looking up, suddenly, with a faint smile—‘ your connection with this affair seems about to cease complete- ” ly. Vie Yes, and without any of Mr. Lysson’s pre- monitions being fulfilled in regard to the future developments that were to come through my agency. I wrote Rachel, yesterday, that his tition had been rewarded as superstitions deserve. The finding of the envelope had nei- ther brought me nor ill, nor to those more deeply interested in it, any success.” CHAPTER XXIV. OF WEDDING PRESENTS AND OTHER THINGS. ‘“BLANOHE; Carl’s bad cage paren have come!” and Issalene tossed an opened envelope into her cousin’s lap. “What fine ones! Of course everything will be in the greatest style. I should not be ‘sur- prised, Issalene, if l’s wedding proved the grandest one of the season.” . . “No doubt he is flattering himself that it will be a very brilliant affair,” said Issalene, care- lessly, not looking up from a pile of gay woeols ‘she was sorting. : ** Grace Church, at four Pp. M.,’” read Blanche, ‘But it will be lighted. What shall you wear, Issa?” ‘“‘T do not know—I have not thought—white, I imagine. ys) White! Well, ivory white will look splen- didly on you. I must ask mamma to let me have a pale pink crape with black velvet; and there are the presents to select. I think mamma will ried Issalene, “Glove and handkerchief-boxes of solid crys- tal, set in a delicate frame-work of carved sil- ver, and lined with puffs of blue satin.” You and auntie have been in haste with your selections.” ‘““Why, the hipaa s Bee the eighteenth and this is the eighth, and there is always more or less shopping to do before you can find an arti- cle t ope ga you, even if you have de- cided 5 what it shall be. I would really like to w what uncle Frederick will give . ” em. “A set of jowelry—to Agnes; I remember that he spoke of it, when we were selecting my monds. ar And have you not thought at all what pre- sent you shall make?” : > dh, you may depend upon my making a good selection, and in good time,” said [ssalene, gathering up her wools and going to her ewn room. There she put on her hat and cloak, and fas- tened a heavy vail over her face; and when thus arrayed she stole quietly out of the house. When she had ae io Pherd FOr ne* instead of hailing a stage, she kept straight on, crossing sera after avenué, until she had left the fash- ionable and even the respectable portion of the city bebind her; and it was not until she found herself at Avenue A that hep used. Here she waited for a Belt Line car, and rode away down foto thelower portion of the city. Alighting at woe : \ ~ ~ my a narrow, dirty street, she walked;a block or two, and then entered a small drug ptove. A little sharp-featured man came toward her. ** Ah, mees has come.” “ Yes; you have the powder ready f” **Tt is quite ready, quite ready.” And I am ready with the monsy I promised you; where is it?’ “Here, mees,” laying a tiny white parcel upon the counter. ‘* Very well; open it, and ere some to your cat, there! I will wait until I see its effects.” “What! we my cat—my pet cat?’ “Certainly! Do you think I am such a fool as to take any worthless mixture you might choose to palm off on me? See here!”—opening adainty purse—‘“‘ here are these three, crisp, new bills for you—more money than you can make in this vile little store in a year. When you put upon this counter a paper of powder hat is powerful enough to quic ly kill your cat, they are yours! Cats are plenty!” The man hesitated, and the girl added: “Come, do not be stupid! You have your choice. Give me a powder that will kill surely and quickly—or none! You can get in no trouble. Where is the mortal to prove that I bought it here? Will you give it me or not?” Slowly the man prepared another powder. ‘* Now leave the paper open and let me see you take some out and give it to the cat. Reluctantly the druggist obeyed the girl’s im- perious commands. The great, sleek, gentle cat rubbed purring against his hand as he touched it, and the girl looked on unfeelingly and criti- cally, while it lapped the deadly potion mixed in water. The trial was soon over; the animal shortly rolled, and writhed, and moaned, in aw- ful pain, and then suddenly lay rigid and life- less. “That will do!” cried the Cuban, triumphant- ly, and she, herself, folded the pour over the powder, before she threw the bank-notes upon the counter, lowered her vail, and left the shop. * : When she reached home she ran quickly to her room, unlocked a little privaie drawer where lay a small revolver, and deposited the powder beside the weapon. ‘*T have you both now!” the girl cried, fierce- ly. “I wonder when will be the time to use you?” It was just a week afterward that Issalene Sanfrey locked another treasure into that little secret storehouse—three papers. One was a piece of chocolate-colored paper, the torn cover of a novel, upon which was written an address in lead pencil; the second was a torn envelope— bearing the name of Mrs. Elise P. Chandor; — the third—was the most important of them L ' “T have been in luck to-day!” she cried, with fiendish glee. ‘Everything is in my hands, now, and I will see what it is like to personate Fate! You sball not die, Alan! Oh, no! I could not think of killing you, now/ You shall live, because I have a much better revenge in store for you than murder! And your love—the wo- man for whose sake you repulsed and insulted me—she shall find how she likes being a bride only at the altar! Only at the altar, my lady! For within an hour after you marry Alan you shal know all! all!” ; The little Cuban was wild with excitement. Her eyes blazed, her cheeks were flaming, and, as was usual with her when moved by intense emotion, she paced the floor with rapid restless- ness. It was a long time before she grew calm; then she drew a chair before the table where her writing-desk lay, and folded her arms upon it, wearily; her eyes drooping in deep thought. “It must be done!” she said, at last, opening the box and taking out a sheet of costly per- fumed paper, and her tiny gold pen. ‘‘ It must be done! I must conquer in every way—even conquer myself! And, after all, I will take care to make fy a lot easy. HowTI shall iy and what jewels I'll have—and lovers! Ah, I will be the belle of society this year, yes, for rede! for Iam young and handsome!” and she g anced at her reflection in the long mirror of her dressing-case. ‘‘ And if,” she added, still re- garding that beautiful, but fiery-eyed little fig- ure, ‘‘he attempts to control me, or lives too long, there is always the powder!” ; She drew her desk nearer, dipped her pen in the ink, and wrote: “My Daria Huan: “You have the time for Porro Aer mga, be s bg ve been so kind eee ae Le ev eG Qo ee ery PBePAMT | the papers the next ‘no! msense to wait longer, and I propose Thursdy, the eighteenth inst., for our marriage~lay. ; be a strictly private wedding—no one but you aud Ito know anything aboutit until it is announced im ‘morning. escort me to Miss Gardiner’s wedding, come a balf- hour early, and I will be ready, and we can drive straight to some clergyman’s, be married, and them, go on to Grace Church and the Van Alst-Gardiner reception, The next morning we will start for Havana. I want my wedding-trip to be a visit to my home. Come to see me to-night, prepared to assure your little love that you will carry out ali her arrangements. ‘Devotedly yours, IssaLENE,”’ Her note sealed and addressed, Issalene ran yly down the stairs, and sent for a messenger, toda iver it. Then she walked into the library and surprised a couple there: Blanche Lorrimer and Henrion Wilde. where Blanche had just dropped some packages, and Henrion ae per ep he pe Sp there was a trifling look of confusion on his face, and happy and mischievous lights struggling for su- premacy in his honest eyes—that he had beem shopping with Miss Lorrimer, and had just : helped her bring home her purchases. e Yes, I have been getting my’presents for Agnes,’ said Blanche, ‘Have you? Well, I havechosen my presen too,” emothithed Issalene; ‘‘ but I s not what itis. I want it to bea surprise to every’ one!” and she went demurel her cousin and Mr. Wilde to tions and confidences, CHAPTER XXV. AGNES’S WEDDING-DAY. — THURSDAY, the eighteenth of December, Ag- nes Gardiner’s wedding-day, came with a flood | of sunshine, and the clearest of pale winter | skies. “My darling,” Mrs, Gardiner wh , a8 she went to awaken her daughter, an stooped to kiss the round, white, faultless cheeks, ‘if there is any faith to be placed in omens yours — eught to be a very happy marriage; for your wedding-day is a perfect one.” : Agnes opened her eyes, and then her lids — , and she shivered slightly, ; * What is it, darling?’ “Nothing, mamma. It isa trifle chilly in this room, is it not? ‘Perhaps a little. Shall I send your dear? I would not let her cajl you earlier.” “Yes, p lease.” , The vt ori: sc wore toward the hour, and all the pre for the bridal entertainment, The salons upon — the parlor floor were thrown into one, and walls, cornices, chandeliers, and curtains were a mass of vines, in ry hue. Forroses—Carl’s orders had gone far and wide; he had furnished and Ria porte gan ci the decorations, and had determined that roses, however hard to obtain, should be the predomi- nant flowers at his wedding. Great banks and ids of blossoms filled mantles and every available table, and choice floral devices were doubled in every mirror. The stairways and corridors were arches of tropical bloom, and‘ at. the upper end of the parlor hung a marvelous’ ‘ m e-bell of smilax, and snowy rosebuds, spiked with nt clusters of orange-Dlos~ soms, While the salons upon the next floor, de- voted to the many costly wedding-presents, and to the convenience of guests, were almost as profusely decorated. Within Agnes’s room, the her toilet were scattered about, and she, herself, was being adorned for the bridal ceremony. She sat before her -bureau, robed in a thin wrapper of puffs and embroidery, her pret- ty feet incased in white satin boots, exquisitely embroidered, while her maid arranged ber lus- trous reddish-brown hair, and her mother and little Mrs. Clyde Chandor flitted about her, or hung over the dainty bridal dress of satin and Mrs. Chandor, who was only going to the “And I like,” said Agnes, smiling, “the ex- * . uisite Bile Saree cupids that Mrs. Clyde — Onanddr sel , to guard my jewels.” “Oh, I did not select it entirely!” cried Paula, — . “Clyde was with me, Only the | - min’ saw that wou “it. casket, I said I knew you dmi But T'did not 900 Mr Vow t there.” ) Cap ot) iz 4 it has only just arrived. It is anecklace’ \ ‘ ate “ Pt bi eb 4 \ /~ : a . is, It ‘shalt ~~‘ When you come to © They stood by the table — \ ste AE , tions were completed — with roses of eve-) paraphernalia of . * “i Rare eine ‘le ete away, leaving | eir niitual ex- on > ¢ > 1. + ew ; z 2 oman % vy ty rk. & * eo ae ‘ae ee mF ve ’ AD > A 4 jr ne ha
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_ Mrs. Gardiner placed a satin case in Paula's | hands, containing a necklace and locket of dia- = How magnificent! May I look at the pic- ~ “Certainly; then when you see Mr, Van Alst 4n church you will be able to tell if you think ‘it a nice one.” Paula opened the flashing cover that hida —_ finished pre ree of “Ts this—this—Mr. Alst?” she cried, with Yes,” said Agnes, who was stud ment of her hair in the glass. handsome man, is he not?” “ “* And are his eyes, and hair, and beard, cor- ’ . yectly colored, here?” 4 ss es, I consider this a most perfect like- Paula closed the locket and replaced the dia- ‘monds in their case. le!” cried Guy and Clyde in a ut itis! I have just seen his picture.” @ picture,” said_her husband, laugh- ‘* You cannot tell any- you see him, he will not look at all as you think.” “But it was an ivory-type, Clyde; and the color cf his eyes and hair and beard were all there, and I could not be mistaken. I never saw any other man who was handsome in the same way he’ was, with such golden-brown % hair and beard, and such a dark, foreign mistaken! Heisthe man! And 1 did not dare _ The gentlemen looked perplexedly at each other. _ “ What shall you do?” asked Clyde. _.“T hardly know,”- answered Guy, gravely, thinking deeply. Is it not possible that when Paula comes to — gee Mr. Van Alst she may discover that she is mistaken— _ “No, I am not mistaken!” interrupted Mrs. Chandor, decisively. ee “Or,” continued her husband, ‘‘ may not Miss _ Gardiner have known all along that her lover ant was the man, or that heknows something about “Paula,” Guy said, without answering his - gousin’s questions, ‘‘havo you an envelope han- hastily penciled a line on one of his cards, it in an envelope, and left the room. He his decision—whether it was for good or ill, who could tell? Chandor a moment's inter- to her while her maid com- pleted her coiffure. Still, when the lustrous uffs and braids were all arran the little parlor where he wai | In the instant d him, half-offended, balf-anxious, Gu how wondrously fair she was, and how calm, -, and almost repented of his errand; but, then— _ she was waiting for him to speak, and the die was cast. ‘ “TY shall not ask eal, Miss Gardiner; ‘gone time in the future, you will - ~gnough to pardon me; if right—I know you will aphold the right, at any cost. I wish to ask one i uestion—do you know whether Mr. Carl Van - Alst ever knew or met Elise Wallbridge, or Elise Chandor?” J The bride’s violet eyes dilated with intense ‘ou mean? How could he have has identified Mr. Van ou to excuse this strange f I am wron et ye Se rae “ior ly pnt ee Tine eee hn eet, ees eae i 7 ‘ - £~ ’ THE PRETTY looked her hands together. | ‘Mr, Chandor, please get a carriage ready , for me, and I will join you at the door in less | than a minute.” | $he burried to her room, caught up a shawl and wrapped it about her, told the astonished maid that she would shortly be back, and flew down to the street where Guy awaited her, and led her through the canopied arch tothe curb. “T want to go to Mrs. Lorrimer’s. Please come with me! Tell the driver to go at his ut- most speed. There is over a half-hour yet, be- fore Carl will come.” They entered the carria, fairly flew up the avenue, neither spoke: then Guy could not bear longer the awful silence, and the sight of Agnes’s rigid, ghostly face. and the horses or some minutes ‘‘Miss Gardiner, I pray, for your sake, that | this may be a terrible mistake!” “Tf itis a mistakeit must be proved before , my marriage,” she said, meray “and even | neither spoke doubts must be set at rest;” an again until the carriage reached Mrs. Lorri- mer’s, there, and Mr. De Lancy was going up the i Agnes and Mr. Chandor followed quickly, and were admitted at the same time. “Tell Miss Blanche that Miss Gardiner wish- es to see her, without an instaut’s delay,” com- manded Agnes to the servant. The mes was no sooner delivered than Blanche Lorrimer came flying down the stair- way, and into the parlor where Agnes had thrown herself upon a chair, a strange, white, rigid figure—a few orange-blossoms nestling in her burnished hair, a plaid shawl wrapped about her shoulders, and her thin wrapper trailing about her feet. Guy stood silent, near, wondering whether some weighty revelation, or only bitter mortification, was to follow the un- heard-of interruption in the even flow of the wedding arrangements, for which he must be held responsible. While Mr. De Lancy viewed the two with unspeakable astonishment. ‘“What is it? What has happened?” cried Blanche, making a brilliant central figure in her trailing black veivet robe and a profusion of pink crepe de chine. “Blanche!” exclaimed Agnes, springing from her seat, and stretching both hands entreating- ly toward the girl, “I want you toanswer mea ew questions, as truthfully as if you had kissed God’s Bible and stood upon the witness-stand.” ‘“ What?” asked Blanche, growing terrified. “ How long have A}jmost all my life. He is my uncle Fred- erick’s nephew, you know, and visits us con- , siderably when in this country.” “Has he ever seen or spoken of Elise Wall- bridge?” : Blanche turned deathly white, with a sudden dreadful suspicion. ‘* What do you mean? He has seen her twice —when she spent her vacation here and one night the following summer!” — turned to Mr. Chandor. ‘* Can it be possible?” she asked, faintly. And at that moment another fizure appeared at the open doorway—a figure in white silk, and gar- lands of roses, and glittering diamonds, looking far more a bride than the bridelect with her bloodless face and strange dishobille. ‘* Possible!” cried Blanche, excitedly. ‘You do not mean—you can’t think—that Carl had an wriig Se do with Elise’s flight?” ut, before any one could answer, Issalene Sanfrey bad comprehended the whole scene, and knew that, even now, though sooner than | | she had anticipated, had come the hour for her revenge. | “It is possible!” she said, excitedly, springing into the room, her cheeks aflame and her eyes flashing. ‘‘ Elise Wallbridge loved him! and he pretended to love her! At all events he mar- ried her, and she, his wife—his true wife—is liv- not ten blocks from here!” in ith a low cry Agnes sunk back into her chair, and the next instant, quickly following a 1 of the bell, Mr. Frederick Van Alst walked to the midstof the pale group. ‘What does this mean!” he demanded, glanc- ing swiftly around é It ep replied Issalene, fiercely, her hate breaking forth, now, with a force that made it pable to all of her horrified listeners, ‘‘ that the man she is about to marry is the husband of another woman!” — ie \. - Aly a ed a Another carriage had just stopped | ou known Carl Van Alst?” | made the discovery that — a you 4 What proofs ry “These proofs!” she answered, with fiendish triumph, holding up a sealed enve iy proofs that I meant to give Miss ee ager from now, as her wedding-present . Van Alst snatched the envelope from the girl’s hand and tore it open. Three papers were within—the torn cover of a book, a mutilated envelope and a marriage-certificate, “My God!” the proud old man exclaimed, as he read the last. ‘If this is true, my daughter Gertrude was never his wife!” and in the ny of this wretched discovery he would have fallen, had not Guy Chandor sprung forward with mais <' opie i $6 Mla ; , poor gir .. Van Alst. said, openins his eyes and extending his hand feebly an pityingly toward Agnes, ‘‘ Alay Torrence is indeed a villain! You may thank God that you are not another victim.” ‘‘Alan Torrence?” repeated Agnes, looking ; around questioningly. “Yes, you know—surely Carl told you—how he came to change his name?” said Blanche, kneeling by Agnes’s side and chafing the bride-' elect’s cold hands. | “Nol What new fraud is this that has been | perpetrated?” asked Agnes with sudden fury. | “Carl Van Alst was his middle name, and by | his grandfather’s will he was obliged to drop | the name of Alan Torrence and retain his | grandfather’s name, of Carl Van Alst, We all | supposed that you knew that.” | ‘* And the certificate? Will some one show | me.the certificate?” Guy put it in her hand, and she read: “This certifies that the rite of holy matrimony was celebrated between Alan C. V. Torrence, of New York, and Elise P. Wallbridge, of Chica: | June —, ——, in the village of Dar ” . y, near phia, by me— Joun 6. Epw. CHAPTER XXVI. A WOMAN'S HATE AND A MAN’S CONFESSION. Wuitx Agnes Gardiner read the certificate of her lover’s marriage to Elise Wallbridge, Guy Chandor spoke softly to Mr, Van Alst. ‘‘Of course the wedding must be s " “Of course! Of course!” said Mr. Van Alst, making a great effort to rally from the shock of the terrible blow that had come to him, ‘“ Well, will you attend to matters, sir, or can I be of service to you?” Do os sik you could ¢ He will prob- “‘T want Carl here! drive back to the hotel for ably be waiting there. And senda note round , to one of the ushers—young Wilde, perhaps, to have the people sent home; just say that the | wedding cannot take place, and use my name.” As Guy started to fulfill these orders, Mr. De | Lancy, too, arose to go. “You are not going without me?” cried Issa- | lene, clinging to his arm. | “No! Stay, Mr. De Lancy!” -aid Mr. Van Alst, firmly. ‘‘As the betrothed husband of my niece, Issalene Sanfrey, it is well that you © should know any further developments that wretched girl has to make, affecting the bappi- ness of others and her own character!” ‘* How dare you talk of me inthat way before my affianced. husband?” demanded Issalexe, breaking out into another ungovernable fit of fury. ‘Suppose you tell me—it is time that all facts were made known—how is it that you knew that Alan Torrence was married, and have waited until this late hour before divulg- ing such & Villainous secret?” ‘I did not mean to tell until he was mar ried,” retorted the little Cuban. ‘Did I fiot tell you I was saving these papers for a wed- ding-present?” “Tssalene! Issalene!” cried Mrs, Lorrimer, | faintly. She had joined the group, and Blanche had stolen to her side and whispered of the Greadful disclosures. But Issalene took no no- tice of the horrified appeal. ‘What did I care for her?” she went on, with « gesture of disdain toward = ag who now lay back in her chair with controlled but ashy face, | | { | & .uvtionless, attentive listener. ‘ For her sake ; ~-for foar, I suppose, that I should betray to her | the facts that he had’ been Alan Torrence, and as Alan Torrence had loved Eliso Wallbridge, | for ho learned that I suspected him—ho made love to me! For her sake—when he believed | that I had no substantial proofs against him, and that matters bad gone too far with her, for . her to dare to make a scandal by breaking her engagement, just upon the strength of my sus- icions—he mocked at my love! insulted mel ion T vowed Droit kil iit CAST Peers tol. Ob, you need uel look athe ao of vont ee
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‘tran i ' \ I would have killed him, if three days ago Thad not stumbled across wife, and gained a surer method of revenge! I wanted to show him in his true colors, and disgrace him! to ruin him! And I have done it!” , “You have disgraced yourself, as well,” said her guardian, sternly. ‘ You stand before us confessing to Lane and wickedness, and mur- derous resolves, thal make you a fit subject for a lunatic cell. You do not deserve the name of Woman, but fiend! You are a disgrace to your family!” =e ou not better remember that last repeat for Alan's benefit?” sneered ‘How came you by these papers?” “T can psn hs ed how she obtained two of them,” said Agnes, clearty. ‘She took them from my pocket-book while at Wilde Manor.” “Quite right, Miss Gardiner,” retorted the little fury. “I heard you tell Blanche that you had two ens of pe shi whereby to trace Elise Wallbridge’s where- abouts, and I took them, so that if they were ’s you might not use them against him!” And the certificate?” ‘Perhaps she stole that, too, or invented it,” cried Blanche, “Oh, nol Do not flatter as clews, ‘ourselves! I was “in ec on Monday, and pped that enve- lope ta some change frommy purses. When I reached another counter I discovered that I had lost it. I went immediately back and found that the shop-giri had picked it up, and handed it to another customer—a little ghost, who was nearly fainting at sight of it. I claimed er then I discovered that the woman was ise, “ And is shein New York?’ cried Agnes. “Not ten blocks away, I tell you! I went horace with her, and got her to tell me how and when she was married, and I discovered that she had a certificate. She thought Alan was already married. I told her that he had mar- ried Gertrude, and that Gertrude was dead, and that he intended marrying again; and I per- suaded her to give me the certi cate, by telling her that the lady was a great friend of Blanche’s and that Blanche would show her the ce’ tificate and so prevent Alan’s marrying so wickedly; es that when Alan found out that we knew, © would live with her, and let every one know that i wis His wife!” p issalene! And you did not intend to do this?” asked Mra. Lorriivar ind un- able to beiieve all this wickedness of her niece. Of course not!” rung out the Cuban’s de- fiant answer; “I was going to murder Alan, but I thought that to reveal this secret af this bril- g of his, would be much better re- nt wi venge!” « Tosaloio ?* extolaimied Mr. Van Alst. ‘You had better be careful how you utter many more such damning confessional We may be forced to use them againt you ina way you will not like! Is there any one here,” he added, “who would go for Alan's wife?” “I will go,” said Mr. De Lancy, arising with an evident desire to effect an escape from these and “You know - “Mr. De Lancy, under believe that you will still desire to marry my niece, If such isthe case, 1 hope you will understand that f, as her guardian, consid- er he honorably released from your engag2- “Thank you. I think Miss Sanfrey will agree with me that we had at least better postpone any immediate ratification of our engage- i ment.” “Or, perhaps, we had better consider it can- ‘m entirely agreeable,” sneered Issa- celed, iene, “Very well, we will consider it canceled,” _ answered Mr. De Lancy, gravely. For all his -ove for the dark-eyed beauty, she had betrayed unscrupulous a morality, and toodangerous @ disposition, for him to care to trust his future ae ol little, wicked Banas po : am at your command, sir, ean go for the lady you mentioned,” he said to Mr. Van “ T will . ‘ =; 8° too, uncle Frederick. Poor little ae will come with me,” announced Blanche, the brilliant beauty, in her splendid cos- tume, set out with her elderly escort, to seek the co reer at oi Sha Behool-friend’ id ig aR: 6 Shortly after they were driven - other carriage rolled’ u: th Petal CAM the street, from which chron a Guy Cnandor and Carl Van iy *. ra fy) | P +3 i f : 3 ‘ LSE a a, Oe Ete geo ES OF Ete iy a9 na a, Cee 1 gee ‘ ~ To ~ } THE PRETTY PURITAN. id brown e' charged with hard despair ond gookions ton The moment that Cari Van Alst entered the ede he guessed that something awful had med, and that it related to himself he cou not doubt, Daigo cg his ae aft ow, Agnes’s color scornful face, Issalene’s blazing eyes and wicked, triumphant smile; but that anything mors than suspicion was to greet him, he did not dream. “What is the meaning of this?’ he asked proudly and dictatorially. ‘‘ This tleman, cobs oc who had gently led Mrs. Gar- diner to her daughter's side, where she sat in mute eae rng, 4 and alarm, ‘‘informed me that Miss Gardiner desired my sence here.” ‘* We all desire your presence here!” rejoined his uncle, wrathfully. ‘‘We wish you to un- derstand that your wedding cannot go on! That the man who has one wife ei So has been gull of bigamy once, and has mpted to add still another A his list of victims, has been detected in his crimes!” / There was searcely a sca gle change in Carl’s handsome, deflant face. ‘Suppose you explain what you are talking about, sir?” ek art t! Carl took the slip of paper his uncle handed him—the certificate of his marri to Elise Wallbridge—and as he realized #hat it was, his rf face suddenly paled. Then Issalene’s laugh rung out scornful and vindictive. “ Ah, you see now what a woman’s hate can do!” Without noticing her, he turned insolently to his uncle, ‘“Would it not have been less idiotic, sir, for at to have proved the truth of this paper, be- ore making all this fuss about a miserable lie, probably concocted by that insane girl yonder who is willing to commit any absurdity that she imagines will be a reve upon me for not ae rg to fall in love with her?” ‘Mr. Van Alst,” said Guy Chandor, calmly addressing the elder gentleman, ‘if you will allow me to speak, since I am ve sock and closely connected with this affair, 1 think I can prove to Mr. Alan Torrence that we have a Prey. clear case against him.” “Go on!” said Mr. Van Alst, while Carl, with a sneering, impenetrable face, leaned against the arched doorway. “Mr. a ee in this house, met and made love to Elise Wallbridge, and, strangely enough, no one suspected his power over her, except the one woman whose eyes a rival love made unusually keen. . He played fast and loose with his victim, until at he coaxed or forced her—a shy. timid girl, easily influenced and con- trolled—into eloping with him. This is proved by this certificate, which has been gained from who will soon be here to authenticate it. sien be has been identified by a lady now at the Everett House, who journeyed upon the same train with him last summer from Balti- more or na aca peR and—” “From Philadelphia,” interrupted Issalene, “That was where he kept Elise.” ‘And to whom he gave this envelope; little thinking that, from the hands of the stranger, it would be thrown into a bureau-drawer at a hotel, and remain there nearly two months, 10 fall into the hands of the very woman he was endeavoring to win for a wife, and, through her, into the hands of the sister and husband of the girl he had seduced into an elopement, upon the very day after her marriage)" Agnes drew a hard, quick breath. “Why, she was not married to you! Have you not noticed the date of the certificate? She was his wife nearly a year pefore that!” . Over Guy’s face spread a strange pallor, fol- lowed by a look of relief—almost of joy. haps it vas scarcely to be wondered at that, af- ter all this nrisery and mystery, he was glad to know himself a free man again. But, at es’s words, the first she had uttered since his en- gance, a sudden change camo over Carl, He advanced to where she sat, and held out his beads with a look of mad, unconquerable pas- on. ‘* Agni ou know that my tove for you has been Bp Varied one terrible, unalterable truth! You will not rob me of the one jo in life I covet? You will not believe these things they are saying against me?” Even as he had turned to bitterness the love | of others, so, now, his pleadings met only 8CO} rm. eb Me Alsti do not gaze i es to me ag our very presence is an a eat Can you not imagine how I foathe and despise you . He stepped back with his face livid and his ‘ vot ’ ‘ te * . \, M , x 1 : ~* + 5 aN ie £ ‘rh? 2 ya ee | the “Very well! You cannot loathe me more, if I satisfy you withall the facts! Idid like Elise, and the girl was so fond of me, and such a pret- ty little tan, that I was fool enough to mar her! That was three years ago, next June, lt was arran that she should meet me in Philadelphia, instead of going directly on to Chica We ge ting there almost a week; her arents thought was with the Lorrimers. ome time, during her next year at school, I was to make the marriage known. Not a week after, I was summoned to Germany, where I found that my dfather had — died, and tbat I, the son of his daughter and eldest child, was to inherit a splendid fortune, only by drop- ping my own name and g his, and marry- ing my cousin Gertrude. I did not stop to con- sider how I should arrange matters here. Gertrude (mers of the will, and we were married. first thing I did, when I was free and reached New York again, was to seek Elise, I followed her to Chicago, and happened to be at the depot ae as she and Mr. Chandor took a train for St. Louis. I got upon the same train, and accompanied them to St. Louis, and dis- covered by the hotel register who they were, I could not understand Elise’s marrying. She was not a girl to betray a secret, I had sent her a note, just- before going to Germany, noti- : bat it might be. months vine she fying her t beta from me. “Anxious to discover if she had made any revelations which would endanger me, I instant- ly wrote her a note, asking her to meet me, as soon as possible, not two blocks from the hotel. I watched the house, saw her come out, joined her, and found that she had never revealed her rap beg receiving a note from Issalene San- frey, immediately upon her return to Vassar, saying that I was married to Gertrude Van Als t,. and not hearing from me, she had believed that _ Ihad never really married her; and not dar- ing to confess this to any one, had allowed her- self to be married to . Chandor. Her love secret being discov that I thought best to. bring her East, where I settled her in Philadel- phia, as Mrs. Torrence.” » “‘Y suppose you understand,” his’ uncle de- manded, rg ar they had listened to the young man’s defiant confession of his wrong do- gs, ‘that all but a specified portion the pre rty that came to you h your grand- ther, reverts to myself: and that you are, at this moment, liable to arrest and punishment “The er you can take! The other re- venge, sir, I think you will forego! Since it can only involve in scandal many other parties be- sides myself, Iam sure you will —— my ad- vice to keep it quiet!” and Carl turned insolent- As hs jorkell pen ties see) ahiaianl e jer open t , a y; y. white face met his, anda — puucing: ory ran through the broad hal “ Alan! Oh, my Alan!” The man o the little clinging hands, and dashed down tore himself rudely away trot aS steps; and with a terrible, despairing cry, that. . wrung-the hearts of all who listened, the young the threshold that, three she had entered with an, lish soul, wife sunk lifeless u Christmas-tides be unruffied, untutored CHAPTER XXVIL ELISE LEARNS A NEW THEOLOGY. it was many hours before Elise Torrence was red to consciousness, ‘ During that time, esp 9 ie ee er own apartmen uy Chan ad escorted, Hire, Garde Vv y had : ck Van Alst ne to rooms, to do all that he could towend-4 settin ny" raight,. aod keeping quiet, the terrible trouble in which his guilty nephew had involved so many nt sons. For he had seen that there was, as Alan had scornfully advised, butone course to follow, ‘and that to hush up the whole matter as much, 48s possible. It could do no good to further pun- ish Alan, at the expense of the scandal in which | it would involve Agnes Gardiner ad the memo- | ry of his dead daughter. There was sure to be | enough gossip, that would get abroad, as it was. | - Mra. Gardiner, too, was thinking of this, as she and Agnes alighted at the hotel, whence the- | | { | | { | | for me was so violent, and she so dreaded her | | canopy bad been removed, aud curious waiters were tearing away the magnificent floral deco- rations within. Agnes struddered as she passed weerlly stairways, that ot this heur onl. have echoed with | A ety cdailides, ew destiiy: oe wii have- . a i. Vom back to the hotel, and. gay voices of her wedding- | ~ Poy ABPeM TE? tet 2 Sees Por
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J ne > + - ‘against Mr. Chandor, * : spoken. ,- Ww “Care! Sade, | ‘S»would have been 1 -f.8 ! her mother said, tenderty, as the door closed them witnin the\quiet of their littie par- lor...‘ Oh, if I could only bear some of this sor- row for you!” heart is broken, mamma! “Do not think m It is only hat suffew and I have de- my pride served this hae mao this marriage. But I had not the couraze to break it off!’ and Agnes leaned her heau uoon #er mother’s shoulder, and shed some bitter | h | ‘But you willlike to go immediately home, to Meadow Grange. I will telegraph and we can start in the morning. Marie can finish the packing, and come later. I think Mr. Chandor will kindly attend to returning the wedding- presents, "Yes, mamma, he will do all he can to help us; and I shall rather spend the winter at home; but I cannot consent to go, until I see Elise again, and know what she is to do.” “Very well, we will stay over a day or two, if you wish, but now you must certainly try to £2t some rest,” - So Agnes’s room was cleared of the bridal | I finery, which her maid d hastily away, and she was soothed to rest by her mother’s gen- tle hands. The next morning, Miss Gardiner sent for Mr. Guy Chandor, and ascertained that he had tele- graphed for Mr. and Mrs. Wallbridge, and had & letter ready to send to Rachel by the Satur- day’smail, She then prepared to call at Mrs, Lorrimer’s, whither Guy p: to escort ber. _ Blanche Lorrimer met Gardiner with some co! t. She scarcely knew what man- ner to adopt toward her friend, until es set her quite at ease, by her entire f ness of self and intense thy for Elise, This sym- pathy Blanche shared; and recounted Le Nyon Peat dons for the young wife. “The thing she said, when she came to, about midnight, was, ‘ ’g Mam- -matold her, as gently as she could, that we had gent for Alan, but he could not be found, as he ‘was not so his ate woo — omen not spo. 8 v1 er an nurse, 2t she will not notice it.” “Can I see her?” Oh, yes; and I hope you can get her to Blanche led the way to the large room where Elise lay motionless upon the bed, and Agnes went straight to the girl’s side. __‘ Elise,” she said, “I am Agnes Gardiner. Will you not speak to me?” At sound of that calm, musical. voice, Mrs. Torrence turned and looked into Agnes’s weary, ‘white face, “You were Rachel’s friend. I knew it when Issalene told me you were to marry Alan. And you loved him, toot I am sorry for you.” “T cannot say that I loved him greatly, Blise, You need not be sorry for me.” ares s do not care because I stopped your I thank God for jt! Djd you never think how wrong it was, Hise, to keep your marriage a secret?” _ ‘Wrong?’ repeated the girl, wonderingly. ‘‘Tt would have been wrong to tell when he did not wish. Nothing was wrong that I did for Alan!” ; ‘* My poor child,” said Agnes, gently, taking tho ay hand, “ you are pas ot everything It was wron and marriage 0; keep ita Sf crams 80, see what a, terri- ble sin you enabled Alan to commit, when he to be the husband of his cousin Ger- and what a terrible sin committed if a ad told, there none of this trouble and dis- grace that has been going on for two years, and culminated last night in Alan Torrence being a discovered pieuiate how much it you would have kept him from, and what misery you would have saved Rachel, and Mr. Chandor, _ and your parents.” te was looking at her with strangely start- eyes. “‘Have I dono all this? Have they all cared?” “You did not mean to do so much wrong, I know; but you have caused those who lov you much sorrow—Rachel a aod your father and mother.” Alan? THE i in delirious agony wi ut they did not love me as I loved Mor the dante ae ae Pay an 44 | Lam sure, and will rejoice that | Your For days—yes, for | journey here now.” weeks, now, my heart has refused to sanction | % c ys Spee a ne : cheats PRETTY ae” = + much, and you had no right to sin so against them.” Are they very angry at mef” Angry! No, indeed! They all forgive you, you are found, bly on. their “ “cc father and mother are pro “Oh, don't let them come! They will scold me and say I must not love Alani And I cannot help loving him! I shall die without im!’ yb And leave your Kame oft * is did not love the baby, and I do not think I do, much.” “ Bat you will by and by, and your parents will love it dearly, too.” “No, they will be angry at us both.” PURITAN. f there was TSONs who had been intimately connected with Alan Torrence’s lifo who sincerely mourned his death, except his wife, and probably, the fiery jealous Cuban girl, who had been sent to her island home, where those who had suffered arr 5 her hoped she would always remain. | ““My dear Agnes,” said Mrs. Wilde, one day Probab] , in May, when she had taken a run down to and had Meadow Grange to visit her favori “T should casually mentioned Alan’s death. ' very much like to know how that poor little | | terday. “My dear child, how can youthink sof Why, | my mother would love me just the same no mat- ter what I did, and so will yours. Perhaps she wil not io Mie same way of showing it, but ill be she. will “Tf I had thought so, perhaps I should have Wid them. But I did not think any one had ever loved me, but Alan; and when he was gone then ae one to tell my troubles to, and I wanted ie ‘* There was olvaye God, to whom you could fel) Four Sroaier, ise.” ‘* Oh, no! He only likes dreadfully unpleasant, ious people; and I never cared to have any- Loris o with Him, ‘ +. ” id 4 6 wy nay things te lore Loar abe its for all those who y, and He wishes no one to be other than pertectly natural, and joyous, and true to the t. ‘If ministers, and the le who call them- selves good, taught that, how much less mise: there would be in the world,” the gil exif with unconscious irony, condemning those who had been, in a measure, responsible for her er- ere en said, with growing interest ia mn e others ae herself: **Do you know Mr, Chandor?” ‘ Yes, he is here; would you like to see him?” Oh, Pm she answered, shivering. You need not be, of him. He is too noble a serge to think or say anything harsh,” and a signed to Blanche to call him. a few minutes the tall, Saxon-fair man was kneeling at Elise’s side, ** Poor little girl!” It was all he said, but the tones were so ten- der, that Elise commenced to sob, and even Blanche and Agnes felt the tears come to their are in error, or eyes. “Do not cry, little one! I suffered a great deal at first. It was so hard, you see, not to know where you were, and even whether you were alive. But I have gotten over that now. Iam only you, ou ever t re dg re 1 will ny t that want a ou not fo: amo Rive?” y rge ne, ‘* No; oh, no!” Her visitors bade Elise good-morning, then, and it was years before they two saw her again, CHAPTER XXVIII. THE READING OF THE MYSTERY. Anan TORRENCH took a steamer for Europe ape the Saturday fo! the Thursday which was to have been his wedding-day to Ante Gardiner. news was not broken to Elise until her father and mother had been with her some Awe treating her with a forbearance and affection s0 unexpected to the poor wife that she had fallen back upon their care and protection with a docile, weary, but spiritless sort of depend- ence, en she learned that Alan put the ocean between her and him, she consented to re- turn to Chicago bso her father’s promise that he would write to her husband and demand of him asuccinct statement of his plans in regard to his wife and child, She still hoped in her heart-broken way, that Alan would now return to her, or send for her to go to him. But the letter Mr Wallbridgo sent, was never delivered to Alan; the faithless husband travel- ed directly to lens where he remained ke the winter, and when that installment of m reached him, in the earl , he was tossing a uthern fever, dailies contained this “Perhaps not; but they loved yon very | notice: +s ‘ 2 ; * A ‘ B ‘ | | be and I wife of his bears it,” “Thad a letter from Mrs, Wallbridge, yes- She says that Elise is more quiet and tient under the blow than they had dared to ope. They are going to Europe with her, this sumamer, and they think that the change, and i B, with Rachel, again, will do her much C about me no end, though the slightest reason for it. But you said you had so much news to téll us,” added, anxious not to be the theme of con- on. ‘Ah, yes; Flossy Rodwell is to be married in weeks, to Willis Leonard, and they sail for England. I never knew, until quite ey, what trouble she made between Henrion and Blanche Lorrimer.” “Bus matters are all right, now?” questioned smiling, ‘ Yes, indeed; Henrion will be married nex» fu, am with his choice.” And then Mrs. Wilde gave a tiny sigh as she thought of the hopes she had been wont to chery or son and “Impossible! I never was at guessing. You must be charitable and | me.” to settle all o rangi Alan's property. and n was monly. his share, on wife and more er. Mrs, Gardiner smiled. ry aT knows best when she cares to go.” ell, I should like to have her come to again, for the summer. I am sure I do no know how I shall ever get on without her. Mr. a Cl an Chanege. are comin ni a nice for you,” repli but for myself I cannot make any plans 9 feel most like staying here at range, with mamma,” ‘Perhaps Mrs. Gardiner will be persuaded to come, too, this summer,” “We will see,” said Agnes when they bade their visitor -by. But that night there came another visitor to Meadow Grange who made all Agnes’s plans for her. In the sweet-scented night the ore maqmeneded the old South. and Bede an- With a knowledge, already, of her heart had elalded din dayotinn Agnes turned swiftly, and hid her proud upon his breast, and drew down der face to hers, how utterly - to this man head his grave, ten- “God bless dear!” he answered so! , and then his golden mustache brushed her : eine, one the kisses hers glad- Y d thus the m which had {n- volved their two mn ign pete _
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’ 20 Tee NOW READY AND IN PRESS. 1 Adventures of Buffalo Bill. From Boyhood to Man hood. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 2 The Ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of the Leviathan, By Captain Mayne Reid. (3° An extra large number. 8 Adventures of Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince. Remarkable . career of J. B. Hikok. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 4 The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 6 Texas dack, the M King. Thrilling Adventures in the Life of J. B. Omohundro, ‘Texas Jack.” By Col. P. Ingraham, 6 Cruise of the Flyaway; or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon. By GC. . Dunning Clark. 7 Roving Joe: The History of a Young “ Border Ruffian.” Brief Scenes from the Life of Joseph E. Badger; Jr. By A. H. Post, 8 The Flyaway Afloat; or, Yankee Boys "Round ‘the World. By ©. Dunning Clark. 9 Bruin Adams, Old Grizzly Adams’ Boy Pard. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 10 The Snow Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land, A Narra- 1 tive of Sport and Life around Lake Winnipeg. By T. C. Harbaugh. 1 Old Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamer ; or, The Morarch of the Mountain. By Dr. Frank Powell. 12 Woods and Waters; or, The Exploits of the Littleton Gun ‘ Club. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 43 A Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as Boy and Man, of Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By Prof.Wm. R. Eyster. 14 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur Hunters on the Buffalo Range. By Oll Coomes, {6 Kit Carson, of Guides; Prairie Trails. By Albert W. Aiken. 16 Red River Rovers; or, Life and Adventures in the Northwest. By C. Dunning Clark, 17 Plaza and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of .‘‘ Buckskin Sam,” (Major Sam 8. Hall.) By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 18 Rifle and Revolver; or, The Littleton Gun Club on the Buffalo Range. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 19 Wide-Awake George, the Boy Pioneer. By Ed. Willett, 20 The Dashin Dragoon; or, The Story of General George A. Custer, from West Point to the Big Horn. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 21 Deadwood Dick as a Boy; or, Why Wild Ned Harris, the New ogland Farm-lad, became the Western Prince of the Road. By Edward L. Wheeler. 22 The Boy Exiles of Siberia. By T. C. Harbaugh. 23 Paul De » the French Beast Charmer; or, New oe work Boys in the Jungies. By C, Dunning Clark. " 24 The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life of Colonel Monstery, (American Cbampion-at-arms.) By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 25 Round the tant 3 Fire ; or, Snow-Bound at “Freeze-out Camp.” A Tale of Roving Joe and his Hunter Pards. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 26 Snow-Shoe Tom; or, New York Boys in the Wilderness, A Narrative of Sport and Peril in Maina, By T. C, Harbaugh. 27 Yellow Hair, the Boy Chief of the Pawnees, The Ad- agg Career oe pai e of Nebraska. By Col. Ingraham. e Chase of the at White Stag oe. By C. Dunning Clark. F sane siemens Fortune-Hunter; or, Roving Joe as Miner, Cow-Boy Trapper and Hunter. By A. H. Post, . 30 Walt Ferguson’s Cruise. A Tale of the Antarctic Sea, By C. Dunning Clark. 81 The Boy Crusader; cr, Howa Page and a Fool Saved a King, By Captain Frederick Whittaker, B32 White Beaver,the Indian Medicine Chief: or, The Ro- ‘mantic and’ Adventurous Life of Dr. D. Frank Powell, known on the Border as “ Fancy Frank,” ‘‘ Tron Face,” ete, By Col. P. Ingrabam. or, Mountain Paths and 33 Captain ‘the Young Explorers or, The Centipede . Among the Flows, By C. Dunning Clark. . 3 te ee eae eS ate } oo ee 7 ‘K hea (ad Peat a See = é x ae ee Se a ee ¥ ¥ 34 The Young Bear Hunters. A Story of the Haps and Mishaps of a Party of Boys in the Wilds of Michigan. By Morris Redwing. 35 The Lost Boy Whalers; or, In the Shadow of the North Pole. By T. C. Harbaugh. 2 tees 36 Smart Sim, the Lad with a Level Head. By Ed. Willett, 37 Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or, The Monsters of tbe Esquimaux Border. By Roger Starbuck. Tyee 388 The Settler’s Son; or, Adventures in Wilderness and Clear- ing. By Edward 8. Ellis. ‘ 89 Night-Hawk George, and His Daring Deeds ard Adventures in the Wilds of the South’and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways of the Lone Coast, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 41 The Pampas Hunters; or, New York Boys in Buenos Ayres. By T. C. Harbaugh. 42 The Young Land-Lubber. By C. Dunning Clark. 43 Bronco Bily, the Saddle Prince. By Col P, Ingraham. 44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the Woods. By Barry De Forrest. 45 Jack, Harry and Tom, the Three Champion Brothers; or, Adventures of Three Brave Boys with the Tattooed Pirate. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. * 46 The Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures at the Equator. By T. ©. Harbaugh. 47 The Boy Coral Fishers; or, The Sea-Cavern Scourge, By Roger Starbuck. 48 Dick, the Stowaway; or, A Yankee Boy’s Strange Cruise. By Charles Morris. 49 Tip Tressell, the Floater; or, Fortunes and Misfortunes om — the Mississippi. By Edward Willett. Sart 50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska Charlie, (Chas. Burgess.) By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. - 51 The Colorado Boys; or, Life on an Indigo Plantation, By Joseph KE. Badger, Jr. 52 Honest Harry; or. The Country Boy Adrift inthe City. By { Charles Morris, 53 The Boy Detectives; or, The Young Californians in Shanghai, By T. C. Harbaugh. ‘ 54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plainsman. By Col. Ingraham. 55 Harry Somers, the Sailor-Boy Magician. By 8S. W. Pearce. 56 Nobody’s Boys; or, Life Among the Gipsies. By J. M. Hoff man. 57 Th: Menagerie Hunter; or, Fanny Hobart, the Animal Queen. By Major H. Grenville, ‘‘Sea Gull.” et - 58 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines, By Charles Morris, — 59 Lud Lionheels, the Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger Starbuck. 60 The Young Trail Hunters; or, New York Boys in Grizzly Land. By T. C. Harbaugh. 61 The Young Mustangers. By C. Dunning Clark, ; 62 The Tiger Hunters; or, The Colorado Boys in Tiger-Land. By Joseph E, Badger, Jr. * 63 The Adventurous Life of Captain Jack, the Border Boy. John W. Crawford, the Poet Scout.) By Co]. Prentiss Ingraham, 64 Young Moose-Hunters; or, Trail and Camp-fire in the New Brunswick Woods. By Wm. H. Manning. 65 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker; or, Two Brave Boys to the Rescue. By Roger Starbuck. ‘ 66 Little Dan Rocks; or, The Mountain Kid’s Mission. By Morris Redwing. 67 "Lo ore Lige; or, How a Rough Boy Won His Way. By CG. Dunning Clar A New Issue Every Week, Brapie’s Boy’s Lisrary is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cenx per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. . BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pus1isaE RS, j %8 William Street, New York, \ Pi x \ Ae ee tee fips See Sh ey Ry (tees : ~ 7 ann
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18 American Copyright Novels and the Cream of Fonsi Novelists, Unabridged, FOR FIVE CENTS! The Cheapest ces Ever ee “1 The Masked B ide; or, Will She Kacry | Hina? By Mra Mary Reed Crowell 2 ped it amet or, Collegians and Sweet- Love Ea o Did Not) 55 She Did Not bois ins: $ omer Stooping to earts. By Wm. Mason Turner, M. D. Conquer. By Arabella South 3 the veal 4 ie 3 ore The True and the False. rf Love-mad +f or, Betrothed Married, Divorced and —— ™m. Masor ner, M. D. 4 A Brave Heart; or, Ftartlingly — 567 A Brave Girl} or. Sunshine at Last. By Arabella Southworth Alice Fle : & Bessie Raynor, the Work Girl Tae @ a of Life. By William hime ae Secret ule a bg or, A tas al in - st pe ek Bernhardt. eaten Herse! Sara Claxto ’ Danahter én byes *, Blinded by 60 bas we peg bop ae The " detec Legacy. 61 fans eee eas or, reThe False and the of Hollow Ash Hall. aret Bl 63 The Oreole Sisters}. or. — ‘phates’ or the Mrs. Anna E, Perrys. By 64 What Jealous 62 The “Waninc Brides or, The Dead Marg: ie im, IO A ear of pore Eyes Neck ; or, Th By Ke , The Emerald Did ror, the Heir of ory a y Alice Fleming. 65 ane Weikers bee or, "Twixt Cup and 66 re r on Jain ae te Forgi other’s Sin$ or ras eness, By Rachel Bernhardt.” i ¥ 67 Forbidden Bans}; or, Alma’s Disguised Prince, By Lrahall’ Souther orth, 68 Weavers and Weft; or, Love That Hath Us In His Net.” By Miss M. KE. Braddon, 69 Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette. By Alexandre Dumas. 70 The Two Or | 71 My Xo Koung ife, Margaret 17 A Loyal Lover} or, The Last of the Grims- Arabella Southworth. | 72 The Pwo Widows. 73 Hose Michel; or, The ‘ths. B or, The ll-Starred Marriage. By Girl. By Maud Bilton. io teare hege Cyovell iiaieinadiine 19 ig ae Broken aha ark or, Love versus | 74 Cecil Castlemaine’s 6 Gaze} or, The Story of a Broidered Shield. ide. Ph ary Grace pine. | 20 orphan emp ene Orange Girls or, The | 75 The Black Lady of "Pana: By J. 8. Le Fann. le. B Lost Heir. By Agile Penne. 21 Now and Forever; or, Why Did She Mar’ | 7g Charlotte Tem Mrs. Rowson. 77 Christian Oakley’s Mistake. By the mI Him? By Henrietta Thackeray. 22 author of * John fax, Gentleman,”’ 78 My Young Husband ; or, A Confusion in the Peaniie By Myself. TA ueen Amongst Women. By the author of “Dora Thorne,” ete., ete. 80 ae Lord and Master. 81 etd Temple, Sister of Charlotte. 82 A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred. 83 P eying for High Stakes. By Annie 84 The Label Bush. By the author of “John Halifax, tleman. tba, Lawful Wite or, Myra, the Child of Adoption, By Mrs. rey 8. Stephens, 13 Madcap, ghee Little Quakeress} or, The Naval Cadet's eotne Corinne man. 14 Why I Relays p im 3 or, The Woman in Gray. By Sara Claxton. 15 vives. Face a Out in the Work. By T. Cam ots, or, A True Knight, By | 68 The Ebon. stank or, The Mysterious Guardian. oe a Mary Reed Crowell. ilese & or, 16 Trust Vyter icester hans. By D’Enery. By My Young Wife's B Th Bisiear omas, @ Bride of an Actor; or, Driven Molinos yin the author of “ Alonein the Worl” 23 Leap Yeary or, Why She Proposed. By Sara 24 Her Race Was Her Fortune. By Elea- nor Blaine. 25 Only a Schoolmistress 5 or, Her Untold oe wi By Arabella Southworth. out a Hearts; or, Walk on the wis” y Colonel Prentiss Ingra! ion 27 as ‘she n Coquette? or, a a Biteage rtship. By Henrietta Thack ackeray. 28 ybil Chaney ae” Gambler's Wife. By. g5 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. | 86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot. 29 For, Her moat. Bake | or, Saved From Him- | 87 The Romance ofa Poor Young Man. 90 ay Acie quet Girl} or, A Million of Money. SSA rerrible Deeds or, All for Gok, By arrison Jon 31 a id hg »ges or, The Iron Will, By By the author of “Dora Em Mary 4 89 A Gilded Sin. oer tieg it aba tee Author’s Daughter, By Mary orn,” By 90 bo Be Ee eee Ey ule Hisak, ie Mystery of | 93 whe Silt, By Charles Reade, 34 A Marriage of Souventenees or, Was 92 Eileen Alanna; or, the Dawning of the Day. ton. a Count? By Sara By Dennis O’Sulltvan 38 alt A peaines i or, The Winthrop Pride, 93 Love's Victory. By B. L. Fa BY Archerto i eo ere ee ith a e ce rno e y Mirs. Marsn Se Fives amg |B Misesed Beare, area ng elton. By arine . be Country. Cousins or, All is not Gold 98 Alice Learmont. By Miss Mulock. overs. 38 His Own A ing or, Trust Her Not. By Arabe ' 46 The Little Heiress; or, Under a Cloud. 60 spi cater bt aig teen The Prisoner of 99 ah ni ips Bruce’s By Mary 100 Throwgh Fire and Water. By Fred- erick By Mss Mullock. 101 Hannah. 102 Peg Woffington. By Charies Reade. By Erskine Boyd. 103 A Desperate Deed. bella Southwort' 39 Flirtation 3; or, A ¥ en Jacob Abarbanell, (2 40 py sara Cla to » Marry 5, or, In Girl's Good Name. Royal.) Love's Bonds. o yee Devotion or, Against the 104 en on the Snow. By B. L.. Far Or eee 105 The Great Hoggarty Diamond. By Love.. By Arabella Southworth. W. M. Thackeray. 43 The Baronet’s Secrets; or, The Rival Half- . 44 Si we Bc feos Claxton. " 106 From, ‘Dreains to Waking. By E. The aughter 3 or, Brother against 7 107 Poor Zeph! By F. W. Robinson. tee aidicn 2 ays 108 The sad Fortunes of the Rev. Amos 45 Mer Hidden Foe Bo Love At All Odds. By Arabella Southwor Barton. By George Eliot. 109 Bread-and-Cheose, and Kisses. By 110 an NA dering Weir. By Charles sag Seared Bet; or, Within Six Weeks. By Emilie wt he Carlen. 112 A Hero, By Miss Mulock. 113 Paul and Virginia. From the French of Bernardin De St. Pierre. 114 °fwas In Trafalgar’s Bay. By Wal- ter Besant and James Rice, 115 ie Maid of Killeena. By William ie Hetty, By Mrs. Mary A. Denison. 47 Because She Loved Him; or, How Will It End? By Alice Fleming. 48 In Spite of Herself; or, Jeannette’s Repa- ration. By S.R.S Sherwood. 49 His Heart's Mistress; os Love at First Sight, By Arabella Southwort Reade, 111 The intresse. By Mrs, Denison, 61 Two Young Girls; or, The Bride of an Earl. By Alice Fleming. 52 The Winged Messengers 0} or, Risking All a Heart, By Mrs. Mary Reed or + gs pyuree eva y Henry Kingsley 17 oS. B a os Cross 5 wt The Raid of By Captain E. A. Milman. 118 nt r) igre lig a ‘Wwianenelds Goldsmith. o i ee ee ee aS. - = By Florence | By Oliver 54 one oe my, De he. Saved from the Misj 149 An pam oe San Oirls By Annie Thomas. 119 Maud Mohan. By Miss Jane 120 he eta of Warsaw. r . 121 Whe King of No-Land, By B. L. ‘Far- eon. 122 Lovel, the Widower. By W. M. Thack- | eray. ; 123 An Island ort. By B. L, Farjeon. f 124 Cousin Phillis. 125 Leilas or, The Siege of Grenada. By Ei ward Bulwer (Lord on). 126 When the Ship Comes Home. By Walter t and James Rice. 127 One of the Bey. By James Payn. 128 The Birthright, _ Py ae Mrs. Gore. 129 poten aes or, The Tarmer’s Sweetheart. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 130 Homeless E or, Two a Girls in New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 131 chia Sag me nig oe Sister 5 ah By Bt The mad cf. 132 Sel 1d fi Gold. By Mrs. M. V, ctor, 8 Lor oth’s Sim. By Georgiana Dickens. Did He Love Her? By Bartley T. Camp- 4 bel. 5 Sinned Against. By Lillian gee cg 6 ibaa His Wife? By Mrs. Mary Cro 7 whe “Village om the Clift, By Miss Thack eray. 8 Beer. Valeria! or, The Broken Troth, Margaret Blount. "By G. P. R. James, argaret Grabam., 0 Without Mercy. tan Tgvetge Sie Harriet 141 Honor Bound, By 142 iin from Love. 143 Abducted s or, A Wicked nipernee Work. By Rett Winwood. 144 A Strange Marriage}; er Jokn Foster's eiress. By Lillian Love 145 fae are y Mrs, Mary Reed we 146 A Desperate Venture Serta For Love's Own Sake. By Arabella Sou 147 baa War of Hearts. By Corinne Cush- 148 Which te the Woman ? or, Strangely dged. Sara Claxton. ss or, She Would Be An Actress, By Frances elen Davenport. 150 Love Bae of Alls or, In Her Own ee Alice May Fleming 151 A Wild Giri. By Corinne Cushman, 152 A Mian’s Saerifice. By Harriet Irving. 153 Did She Sin. By Mrs. Mary Crowell, 154 He Loves Me Not. By Lillian Lovejoy. 155 Winning Ways. By Margaret Blount, 156 yin She Cost Him or, Crooked Paths, Arabella Southworth, 157 Rg Girls Heart. By Rett Winwood. 158 A ag Mistake; or, A Young Girl's Folly. Mary Shelton, By Agnes Mary 159 Lady Melen’s Vows or, The Mother’s Boeret. B By the Late Mrs. KE, F, Ellet. 160 i a Heart. By nas Lovejoy. 161 Pearl of Pearls. By A. P. Morris, Jr. 162 2 Fate ful snag or, Wedded and Parted, y Sara Claxto eavshedus cts 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 Lives. at 163 The Creole Poousdies or, False as Fair, By Philip 8. Warne. 164 ry Scathin Sranan o ey's Mad Marr’ one aL Soigiaan Di 165 A irate’ le Are By Albert W. hepa 166 A Mans Sin, By Rett Winwood. | 167 Whe Hand of Fate}; or, The Wreck of Two Li By Arabella orth. ves. Southworti 168 Two Fair Women. By Wm. M, Turner, 169 ‘Tempted who ositie Loves or, One Woman's Error. n Lovejoy. 170 oe Barbara’s Secret, By Ma Grace Halpine, 171 A Woman's Witeberss 22 or, Ye shies Much Tribulations. By Sara Claxto 172 Black Eyes and Blue, by Corinne Cushman. 173 The Cost of a Folly. By Georgiana Dickens, 174 The Pretty Puritan. By A Parson’s Daughter. 175 Is Leve a Moc kery or, Revenge is Sweet. By Arabelle Sout woth: 176 Adria, the Adopted. By Jemie Davis Burton. A neo issue every week, Tax Wavertey Lreraky is for sale by all News. dealers, five cents per copy, or sent by.mail on re ceipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York. > tees