Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 201) (1883)

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The Cheapest and Gest Library! Whe Cream of American and Foreign Novels for Five Cents! at Te HPCE TT it er OF it i Ht TA as 1 aN —s ee Bar | 1s YZ a th) $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1883, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, September 18, 1883, _ a em oP 2G —s" LIER GRIEF LETTE TRL LET 2 AEST ES ATCT TS SITS SDE ES ON eT 3 parece pn ae ACE ETE AEE EERE SETS = , ae BY SARA CLAXTON, AUTHOR OF “ WHICH WAS THE WOMAN?” ‘‘FOR HER DEAR SAKE,” ‘‘ LEAP YEAR,” ETC., ETO. eae - “Hm STAGGERED BACK, EVIDENTLY AMAZED,” 4 t , fh, ; y

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,* sy Oe - AYoung Girl's Ordeal ; “I LOVE YOU STILL.” BY SARA CLAXTON, AUTHOR OF “HER GUARDIANS SACRIFICE,” ‘UNDER A ©LOUD,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. AN INCIDENT AT THE ACADEMY, Tue New York season was at its hight, and the fashionable thoroughfares were thronged with gayly-dressed pedestrians and vehicles of a rich and splendidly-appointed character, Fifth avenue of course, was full to overflow- ing; and in the vicinity of Madison Square there was quite a flood of human beings pour- ing) for the most part, toward the great annual exhibition of pictures which, as all the world koows, is held in the Academy of Design. It was a radiant day in June, and as the sun beamed in glowing rays upon the moving crowds of fashionably-attired people, the scene made up a brilliant picture of life, infinitely interesting in a variety of ways, and in many respects more impressive than anything of the kind which it would be possible to see else- where, Amid the crowd which slowly moved through the entrance on this bright June day might have been seen a small group of pretty girls, who kept well together, and who were accompanied by a tall, elderly Jady in spec- tacles, whose severe aspect and rigid mien un- mistakably denoted the ‘‘ proprietor of a ladies’ seminary.” And such she was, In fulfillment of a promise of long standing, Miss Frost, the lady above described, was taking a few of her favorite pupils to the academy. Among the girls, there was one whose re- markable beauty attracted much attention, and whispered comments were indulged in by many as she stood with her companions on the steps, waiting to enter the building. Alice Templeton—such was the young lady’s name—seemed in no way conscious of the ef- fect created by her presence, and she looked on at the bustling crowd with the curious in- terest of one unaccustomed to scenes of the kind, She was tall and fair, with large dark blue eyes, a refined and sensitively-curved mouth, which, when she smiled, displayed the exquisite regularity and snow-white purity of her teeth, Though dressed in a simple summer costume of the most unpretentious kind, she looked far more impressive and dignified than those about her who were decked out in elaborate toilettes, Her. beauty, indeed, was of that character which lends an indefinable charm to raiment of the plainest order. Costly jewelry and all the fripperies of fashion would have failed to enhance the attractiveness of Alice. They would have appeared but poor and paltry things side by side with ber native loveli- ness, She suddenly became conscious of the fact that a young fellow, whom she had noticed a moment before in a carriage, was now standing close to her, looking earnestly into her face. - Then the crowd surged up the staircase and parted them, and she entered the gallery, and at ones gave ber attention to the pictures. Miss Frost made every effort to keep her- pupils together, and implored Alice, who was the senior pupil present, to aid her in this ob- ect, But one by one the young ladies melted away in the crowd, and before long Alice, too, found herself free from the watchful restraint of Miss Frost, and at liberty to roam about the rooms without consulting the wishes of that sternly precise lady. A had not been alone many minutes , whenshe- again noticed the young stranger whose steadfast gaze had somewhat disconcert- ed ber down stairs, A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. ae a ‘¢T. suppose the prospect of returning home is very delightful to you?” he said, while smil- He was with a party of three, whom Alice recognized as the compavions with whom she first saw him in the open carriage at the en- trance to the academy. A tall and stately old gentleman, and a tall and stately lady of perhaps fivo-and-forty, were two of the party upon whom Alice be- stowed but little attention. But a young, proud, and handsome-looking girl who accom- panied them exercised a sort of fascination over her, and she looked again and again at the haughty but beautiful face of this attrac- tive creature, Her young and vivid fancy was soon busy with the probabilities of relationship which existed between this handsome girl and the good-looking young fellow who was at her side. They were clearly not brother and sis- ter; and then, of course, her fancy insisted upon regarding them as lovers, A pang of envy shot through her heart, and turning from this living picture, which her mind had invested with that romantic sig- nificance so dear to the imaginations of girls of her age (she was not quite seventeen), she tried to take an interest in the painted ones which hung upon the walls. She bad not been long thus engaged when she was startled by finding that the good-look- ing stranger was at her side, and that his eyes were again riveted upon her face. They were in a retired corner of one of the rooms, where a few of the smaller pictures, which attracted but little attention, were placed. Alice turned, and her eyes met his, and a quick flush mantled in her cheeks, “T beg your pardon,” he said, as he bowed and raised his hat, ‘‘but might I venture to place my catalogue at your disposal?” Alice was for a moment confused by this unexpected offer; but quickly regaining her composure, she replied, in a formal tone, ‘“‘Thank you, but I really cannot avail myself of your kind offer.” ‘ Perhaps you think me forward for making it?” he said, in evident embarrassment. —. ‘¢ Well, to be candid with you, I do,” she re- plied, smiling good-humoredly. She found it impossible to preserve a repel- lent attitude when he manifested such unmis- takable evidence of sincere and respectful feel- ing. " “And yet—” he resumed, and then sud- denly paused, and looked at her with an ex- pression of imploring tenderness in his bright, dark eyes. - “Do not misunderstand me, No idle motive prompts me to speak to you,” he added, in a low but earnest voice. She hesitated for a moment; and then, un- able to resist the winning charm of his presence and bearing, accepted the catalogue which he placed in her hand, and proceeded to make use of it, “Are you fond of country life?” he asked, as they moved slowly from picture to picture, both still experiencing those mingled sensa- tions of embarrassment and delight which young people are wont to feel under the cir- cumstances, ~ ‘‘-Yes; very much indeed,” she replied. “Are you fond enough of it to wish the ‘season’ over, so that you can leave New York and go into the country for the sum- mer?” “JT am not interested in the ‘season’ at all, being, as yet, merely a school-girl.” Then she stopped, and after a moment’s pause, added, in a voice of deep feeling, “I don’t think that I am ever likely to be affected by the arrange- ments of the fashionable world. But there! I love the country, and hope that circumstances may favor my desire to live in it always.” A quick look of sympathy came into his eyes, which she saw, and then she regretted that she had allowed herself to speak in such an open manner of her position and prospects, “When do you expect to leave town?” he asked, after a short silence. “‘Befure the end of the present month, I hope.” eee ing with cordial tenderness, She was silent: but her face was working convulsively, in the effort to concea] emotions excited by his remark. Turning from him, she quickly placed her bandkerchief to her eyes. “T fear that Ihave given you pain. Iam very, very sorry! Forgive me!” he said, in @ voice of tremulous sympathy. ‘Ob, it was only a passing—” She tried, in vain, to continuo; she was greatly disturbed, and it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from sobbing outright. He gently led her to a seat, and sat dow? himself by her side, watching her quivering face with eyes brimful of tender feeling. “JT am a very stupid and unfeeling fellow,” he said. ‘*You are sure to hate me after this!” he added despairingly. “Don’t talk to me!” she replied, in a low, sad voice. “T knew you would hate me! merited a good borsewhip ping.” “ No, it’s not your fault. In any case, it i6 very foolish and weak of me to give way to my feelings.” Then after a moment’s silence, she added: ‘¢T suppose you have avery bad opinion of me now?” “On the contrary, you havo strengthened the opinion which I first formed on looking at your face.” Alice smiled incredulously. “Yes, I repeat it. I believe you to be & good, and generous, and noble-hearted girl!” he continued with great feeling. “‘T really must not listen to such language! Recollect that we are strangers!” And sbé smiled sadly and bent her eyes to the ground. “IT know that we are strangers; but may hope that we shall soon cease to be such? Do not turn your head away; pray look at mé with those dear eyes, and tell me that—” She rose abruptly from the seat, and in @ tone of quiet dignity, said, ‘I am to blame for this. Had I resented your familiarity in thé first instance, I would not now be subjected t0 your unwelcome compliments!”, And sh@ moved away in search of her friends. In a moment he had rejoined her. ‘Surely you are not going to leave me iB this abrupt way?” he said, in a tone of earnest entreaty. ‘What do you mean?” she replied, sternly. “‘ Now, don’t be angry with me!” he urged, feelingly. “Well, then, cease to use expressions which are offensive tome. If I were to listen, witb- out protest, to the style of conversation which you have seen fit to address to me, I would soon lose all sense of self-respect!” ‘ She was clearly determined to show thié agreeable stranger that she would not stan any undue familiarity on his part, “ But I find it very difficult to address you in the cold and formal style which peoplé adopt in ordinary intercourse.” *¢T don’t see why you should experience aby such difficulty.” ‘‘ But it is a fact none the less. My feeling? urge me to be perfectly open with you—to b@ as sincere and unconventional as it is possiblé for me to be. Can you not understand that condition of feeling?” ' And he watched her face anxiously as b¢ said this. ‘Yes, I can understand it; but I can see 2° reason for it.” Then, after a short. pause, 8b? added; “Your friends will miss you. Pr@. return to them.” “J know you want to get rid of me; and a suppose you have no wish to see me again. not that true?” . ‘“Why should you invite me to say di agreeable things?’ And her face brightened up with a roguisb smile as she thus parried his qnestion. ‘“‘Then it would be disagreeable to you dismiss me?” I feel as if I to o a F > ‘

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‘Certainly not, if you were causing pain to any one else by remaining ia my society.” “Oh! my father and mother are not likely to miss me for an hour or so,” he replied with 8 laugh. “But—but—” Alice hesitated, then with difficulty added, ‘‘ will not that dark young lady feel your absence?” His face suddenly underwent a change; the bright and joyous expression which had hither- to characterized it vanished, and a look of dis- Appointment came in its stead. Her inquiry had evidently caused him great. pain. His voice was low and faint as he now spoke her, “Theyoung lady to whom you have re- ferred will not miss mein the least, Perhaps you will give me an opportunity, an early op- portunity, of explaining many things to you which it is not possible for me to clear up how. Onefavor I must ask of you—to be- lieve that I am sincere in my desire to im- Prove our acquaintance, Will you grant me that?” There was something very gentle and touch- ing in his manner as he preferred this request. “‘ Yes,” she answered simply, not daring to lift her eyes to his. “ And now, when will you grant me the privilege of another interview?” “‘ Really it isnot in my power to say.” Alice, in spite of herself, was beginning to feel very nervous and agitated, She could not resist feeling that this hand- tome stranger already exercised an influence Over her which made it very difficult to repel his tender advances; but repelled they must be, “Could you not grant me even afew minutes of your time to-morrow?” he urged, with tender insistence. “No; itis impossible. We must not meet again,” she replied, in trembling tones. “ Have you no pity for me?” “‘-You will soon forget me.” “‘Never!—never!”’ he replied, emphatically. She extended her hand toward him, and he Clasped it with convulsive tenderness. ; “T shall not relinquish the hope of again meeting you.” As be said this he handed her @ beautiful rose which he bad been wearing in his coat. ‘(Wear that for one day for my Sake,” he added, tenderly. She placed it in the bosom of her dress, glanced at him for a second witheyes as bright seem tender as his own, and then slowly left im. She had not. much difficulty in finding Miss rost, who sternly reprimanded her and the other pupils for the breach of discipline of which they had been guilty. Ina short time they left the academy and returned to Miss Frost’s academy, an old- fashioned. but roomy brown-stone and brick dwelling in the adjacent neighborhood. Alice now found berself hopelessly involyed in romantic speculations born of this strange . interview in the academy. The young man, whoever he was, had made ‘a deep impression upon her heart, and she knew well that as the days went by this im- Yression would become stronger in its influence ver her life, and would for years to come ‘ject her to unwonted suffering. She believed that he was occupying a very Xod position in society, and that his circum- Stances generally were of a character which Would render a match between them impossible, True, she was well connected, the daughter of a clergyman, and but a few years ago she enjoyed prospects which might, without any exaggeration, have included matrimonial pos- Sibilitics such as those which now seemed so hopelessly beyond her reacb. But the death of her father completely changed the aspect of affairs, He left only a couple of thousand dollars for the support of herself and her Mother, and a portion of this money was now ing employed in giving ber an education Which would qualify her to undertake the uties of a governess, This melancholy ,change will explain the s “A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. | emotion which she displayed when the stranger innocently referred to her home. Thoughts of the recent past rushed into her mind, and presented a vivid contrast to pres- ent circumstances. A few days ago her mother was mistress of a happy home; now she was living alone in dismal solitude in a Northern town, waiting for the return of Alice, who was the sole prop of her declining years, Just two days after the eventful visit to the academy, Alice went for_a walk with several of the pupils to Central Park. While she was proceeding along one of the pathways border- ing the drive, her attention was drawn to a ‘¢ four-in-hand” which was moving slowly by. A number of people stopped to look at it, and exclamations of admiration were freely ex- pressed by several of the bystanders on the beauty of the horses and the excellent finish and style of the equipage generally. ‘Whose turn-out is that?’ asked one of the bystanders, referring to this splendidly-ap- pointed drag. ‘‘Oh, that’s Banker Woodville’s! His son and heir, Mr. Jocelyn Woodville, is driving,” replied another. E Alice raised her eyes to the box-seat of the drag, and saw the young stranger who had spoken to her in the academy. A bevy of brilliantly-attired ladies were with him, but by his side sat the handsome girl whom Alice recognized as the same that had attracted her notice at the academy, The two were evidently very happy and pleased, and Alice noted that he smiled upon his lovely companion, and that she responded to the smile with every appearance of cordial sympathy. : Alice moved quickly away, her eyes brim- ming with tears and her lips quivering with suppressed emotion. She was glad to get back to Miss Frost’s again, where, in the privacy of her own room, she gave way unrestrainedly to her pent-up feelings. Before retiring for the night she tenderly pressed the fragrant flower to her lips which she had received from the young stranger. Then she placed the precious token in a place of safety, meaning to keep it by her always, She knew, of course, that the beautiful rose would soon die, and that its sweet perfume would pass away forever; but she alsogknew that it would be imperishably associated in her memory with the tender thought of one whom she could never forget. On the next day she received the most un- expected news from her mother in the follow- ing letter: ‘* Prnrwoop, NEAR Troy, N. Y. “My Dear Carip:— “A preat and welcome change—as you will see from the above address—bas taken place in our af- fairs. Arthur Templeton, my nephew, has most kindly offered me a home here; and f am alread feeling the benefit of the change from that comfor' deea boarding-house where life was so dismal and reary. “ He only heard of my sad position a short time since, as, in obedience to your dear father’s dyin wishes, I have been silent om the subject. Some Rodd friend evidently informed him of our circumstances, and then he immediately took steps to bring me here. “T may as well tell you at once that Arthur is’ very poor—that is, very poor for one whose property | is among the finest in the State, Itis heavily mort- aged, and the title-deeds are in the possession of a awyer who advanced large sums on them to the late Mr. Templeton, your father’s brother. Arthur is | radually paying off the heavy debt, but I fear that | fie has anderaken a task which may prove even too | much for his patience aid industry. “We are obliged to live in a small way owing to these circumstances; but Arthur is so kind and at- tentive, that life is very pleasant under his roof. It will be my constant endeavor—as 1 am sure it will | be yours—tc do everyihing in my power to console anid, comfort him under his severe trials. “J have written to Miss Frost on the subject of our immediate withdrawal from the seminary. Aaa lose no time in leaving New York, as I am very anxious to see vou again, “Ever your affectionate mother, ‘* FLORENCE TEMPLETON. | “ p.g,~Arthur sends his sincerest regards to you.’ Two days after the receipt of this letter, Alice was on her way to join her mother, who awaited her comiug so impatiently. \ ' 3 ee a ee = A new life was now before her; but she felt that whatever changes the future might bring, it could not obliterate the tender memory of the past. CHAPTER Ii, A PROUD MAN, PinEwoop, the old home of the Templeton family, was a fine old-fasbioned-looking man- sion of Gothic design, with a heavy curtain of ivy falling in dark green folds over its massive walls, Spacions grounds surrounded the house, and although they were at the present time neither well kept up or highly cultivated, yet the place was noted for miles around forits picturesque loveliness and rumantic situation, A few words will suffice to explain the posi- tion in which Arthur Templeton found the es- tate when he succerded to it on the death of his father, just eight years before, The late Mr,. Templeton had borrowed large sums of money, to speculate with, from a Mr. Murdock, alawyer practicing in the neighbor- ing town of Troy. Arthur was under the impression that his father had repaid the greater part of this money, especially as no mention was made of it in the will, nor did his fathor speak of it as a liability when confcrrin- with him on matters of business a few days before bis death. On entering into possession of the estate, however, he found that Mr. Murdock held two bonds for a sum of eighty thousand dollars, and that against this loan té lawyer held the title deeds of tho Pinewood property. Arthur was at the mercy of Mr. Murdock, for if the lawyer pressed for a settlcment the property would have to be surrendered to him at the expiration of ten more years. Thereupon Arthur Templeton at once agreed to hand over the revenues of the estate to the lawyer, with the exception of the house and land around it, and a wooded district of several hundred acres. Then this able and energetic representative of one of the oldest Knickerbocker families in the State started a lumber-mill in the town of Troy, and worked as assiduously and pertina- ciously as if he bad been brought up to the business, This step alone stamped Artbur Templeton asaman of rarely vigorous character, which he soon proved himself to be. He retired altogether from the society of his former friends and acquaintances, deeming it unwise to hold intercourse with people who were much better off than himself, and with whom, therefore, he could not mix on terms of equality. He was determined to devote his life to one object, viz., the saving of the family estates from the ravenous clutch of Mr. Murdock. . Pleasure, friends, everything, in fact, which makes life bright and pleasant, especiaily for the young and ardent, he had resolved upon sacrificing for the purpose which we have just mentioned, Right years of incessant work and worry, for his business engagements entailed both, had told upon him in many ways. His face bore the traces of trouble, and looked rather wan and pinched at times; but, never- theless, it was a face that attracted admiration, for it was full of character and high-toned individuality. His eyes were the most remarkable feature of his face. Large, dark orbs, charged with a sort of electric force which gave bis glance a certain penttrating quality not always wel- comed.by those at whom leveled. He had the strange power of fixing people, as it were, by a glance; they felt powerless under the quick, lightning-lhke flash of his splendid eyes. Tall and lithe of buill was Arthur Temple- ton, and with a frame that was well adapted give effect to the nervous energy of his mind, . \ ey.

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4. The arrival of his aunt, and more recently his cousin Alice, had a good effect on him. He felt that he was getting harsh, and crusty, and morose; and the society of women has a won- derfully softening and soothing effect under such circumstances, He was already deeply attached to his aunt, and he thought that Alice was_an agreeable irl, and liked her; but.as yet he had not suf. ient time to say whether she was worthy of any higher feeling of regard. Mere good looks were thrown away on him; #0 that Alice’s beauty, in his eyes, was nothing in her favor. Such was Arthur Templeton of Pinewood, at the period in which we have become interested in his bistory. _ Alice bad now been nearly a fortnight under her cousin’s roof, and during that period she had gone daily toa farm which was about a mile and a half from the house, for the pur- pose of acquiring a knowledge of butter-mak- ing and of other useful branches of dairy- farming. Arthur was privately amused at this, though he could not help admiring the motive which prompted Alice to try and help him by looking after his interests at Pinewood. He was about to leave the house one glorious July morning, on his usual visit to Troy, when Alice met him at the door. Sbe was looking very radiant and happy, and he could not re- sist admiring the youthful freshness and beauty of her face as she raised her eyes to his and smiled with ingenuous cordiality. “Are you going by the farm?” she asked, as she gently laid her hand upon his arm. “Yes, Alice.” “Then I’ll go with you if you don’t mind, Arthur.” He willingly assented, and they started at once on their way. “Well, how do you like life at Pinewood?” he asked, after they had been walking fora few minutes. “Tam very happy indeed, thanks to you, eousin Arthur,” she replied, with tender sincer- ity. “Don’t you findit very dull and monotonous here, Alice? Come, speak candidly to me.” **T certainly do not find it either dull or monotonous. I have never enjoyed myself so much anywhere asI do here, And then mam- ma is so pleased. That alone would content me,” “ But surely, like all girls, you desire a cer- tain amount of variety; and there is no variety at Pinewood. A dance occasionally, picnics, garden-parties, with the usual complement of _ attractive and admiring young men; these are things which, I am sure, you must miss greatly.” “T assure you, Arthur, that I do not miss them, I have never been accustomed to much social gayety, and I have never felt the need of st “a Well, well, it is a good thing to be able to reconcile ourselves to a humdrum mode of life. when no other is possible. Perhaps one of these days,” he added, cheerily, “‘we may be able to make Pinewood a brighter and happier place than it is now.” “‘For your sake, dear Arthur, I hope so, Not that mother and I find Pinewood at all gloomy.” She stopped abruptly, for his dark eyes were fixed upon her, and seemed to read her most secret thoughts, “You are good-natured enough to try and conceal the truth from me.” Noticing her confusion he added, in a gen- tler tone: “But there! We've had enough of the sub- ject, Alice. Let us talk of something else.” For a few minutes she was silent. His glance had frightened her; it seemed to dart into her mind like an arrowy gleam of light. How different, she thought, from the soft and tender radiance of the dark eyes which had looked so impleringly into hers on the occasion of her visit to the academy! Ah, she “A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL, would never, never forget the meaning con- veyed by those tender glances! “Do you walk into Troy every day, cousin?’ she asked, when she had recovered from her confusion. “Yes; every day.” * How many wiles is it?’ ** About five—ten miles there and back.” “Bless me! No wonder that you are tired in the evening, Arthur!” she said, in a tone of tender sympathy. He looked at her gratefuwly, but said noth- ing. ‘*T think,” she continued, in a strain of hopeful sympathy, ‘‘that we shall be very successful at home this year, I have been looking carefully into matters, and I have already made several improvements.” “ Ah!” he exclaimed, as a smile passed over his haggard face, “‘Oh, yes, indeed I have; and I mean to give my whole attention to the farm now! I’m so anxious to be of some use to you, cousin Arthur.” This little outburst of feeling touched him deeply. It suggested to his mind the possibil- ity of nobler qualities in Alice than he had “previously deemed her capable of possessing. Could such a girl be as wise as she was beauti- ful? He dismissed the thought, after a moment’s reflection, as utterly impossible. ‘But you must be careful not to overwork yourself, Alice,” he said, after a short silence. “Now you're laughing at me, Arthur,” she replied, in a tone of disappointment. “‘Laughing at you, Alice? Heaven forbid! I have not met with so many sympathizers in my troubles as to undervalue kindly expressions such as you have uttered.” There was no doubt of his sincerity, and she looked up at him now that she saw his eyes had lost their piercing look and were suffused with tenderness. In a few minutes they reached the farm, and having looked through the place, and given in- structions to Alice not to tire herself, Arthur bade her good-morning and resumed his jour- ney. On arriving at Troy, he found, much to his surprise, that Mr. Murdock had called to see him, and had left word that he would probably look in again in the course of the day. He had a deep-rooted dislike to the lawyer, which, however, circumstances compelled him to conceal as much as possible. Murdock was the only man that he really feared, and he feared him because he knew well that he was no match for the lawyer, whose ingepuity and cunning were indeed remark- able, On hearing of the lawyer’s visit, he was im- mediately beset with fears as to its object. The payments on account of the mortgage were made with unfailing regularity, therefore it could not have anything to do with that matter. What, then, was it? His cogitations had proceeded thus far, when Murdock himself appeared. The lawyer was a man of stout build, with a fat, ruddy face, heavy jaws, and a perfectly bald head. Save for a certain furtive twinkle which lurked in his eyes, which were small and green of hue, you would never have suspected the unbounded capacity for cheating which the man possessed. Murdock was the confidential Jegal adviser of neariy ali the wealthy residents in the neighborhood, which was ample proof of the ability with which he managed to impose on people. At the same time, he was a sound lawyer; and so long as he served them well, it was only natural that his clients should have a high opinion of him, As he sat down now in Templeton’s private office, and leisurely rubbed his bald head with a silk handkerchief, be presented an aspect of amiability which might have deceived any- body. “Well, Mr. Murdock, what can I do for you?” inquired Templeton, in as friendly a voice as he could assume. ys : key ‘ 3 Avie } \ m 4 Yj tek piety oe eS Wahi ae rere Tt Tee ere eve eee oi) “Well, it’s a small matter, and I have 0° ! dcubt that, with your usual good sense, if ye | will allow me to say so, we shall soon arran} Tr i The lawyer spoke in quite a soothing voice, . which was usually very effective in Jollint suspicion; but in this instance it failed to do | 80, { “What is it?’ said Templeton, in his sharpe# i tones. \ “You might remember that in your fathel ' lifetime the right of way through a portion © the Templeton plantations was claimed by th® — then representative of the Vernon family) whose estate borders yours. Your fatheh — whose adviser I then was, refused to acknow ledge the claim; and after spending a lot ° money in litigation, the suit was dropped, - the claim fell into abeyance. Now it is abe to be revived by Miss Vernon, the pres? representative of the family; and as J am a ing as her adviser, I thought that, under e ing circumstances, if I first mentioned tb? matter to you, some friendly understandid might be arrived at.” “T will come to no friendly understandiné on the subject, Mr. Murdock! I will not sa rifice any of those rights for which, as yo know, I am paying a dear price!” replied Te™” pleton, with indignant emphasis, ‘“T am sorry to bear that, for I should reallf like to see the business settled out of cour! ' observed the lawyer, with apparent sincerity: “No doubt, no doubt,” replied Arthur, as b? rose from his chair and moodily walked abot the room, Pausing in front of Murdock, who had bee watching him closely witb his small green ey as a cat might watch a mouse, he added: ‘‘May I ask you, Mr. Murdock, if you a prove of Miss Vernon's attempt ‘to. revive tbi® dispute?” ‘“¢ Personally—mind you, personally—I would much ratber that she had not attempted to ¢° so; but, of course, as her agent and adviser i? legal matters, I must fulfill instructions, ho¥ ever painful.” “Could you not use your influence to dif suade her from proceeding with the matter?” Mr. Murdock shook his head and replied: “‘ Not the least use, 1 ean assure you; but —and he looked up hopefully at Templeton— “if you will’ speak to her yourself on the sub’ ject—” ** What!” shouted the young man in a voic? of anger. ‘She might be willing, for the sake of old times,” continued the lawyer, not heeding thé interruption, ‘‘ to let the matter drop.” “Miss Vernon is the last person in the worlé of whom I should ask a favor!” Then, in 4 altered tone of voice, he added; ‘ Now we ud’ derstand one another, Mr. Murdock, I] not surrender my right. And tell your client the! I mean to fight to the bitter end’” “AN right, Mr. Templeton—all right. I’@ afraid that youll regret your resolve one © these days. Even if you are successful, it w cost ‘you a large sum.” Arthur was silent. The lawyer knew well that it was only by great diligence ‘and hard work that he was able to meet his present lia bilities, and a costly lawsuit must necessarilY ruin him. “Well, you are determined to fight?” hb? asked, with quite a cordial smile. “ Yes,” simply replied Templeton. “Then we'll open operations in a day or tw? © by breaking down your fences—merely as 9 — matter of form, you know—and then you ca? take proceedings against us, and we'll our claim in the ordinary course.” “Very well,” simply replied Arthur. The lawyer rose, bade Templeton good- morning in the most affable way, and the? left him. This intelligence was almost too trying for the brave heart of Arthur Templeton. After striving for eight years with incessant energy — to release his patrimony from the grip of Mur- dock, he now saw that all his efforts would be { 1 ‘ * a os \ } 4 J eee) A i 3 ee pe! dS Te eee

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i Pod , Ne a a }) erly conduct. a - & YOUNG GIRLS ORDEAL, _ W€ndered fruitless. by Miss. Vernon's unneigh- her mother, fell upon her knees at the widow’s To carry on an expensive law- quit, and at the same time pay Murdock, was Mpossible, What was he to do? To give in 10 Miss Vernon would be to surrender, in part, that which it was the object of his life to pre- “rve in its integrity—viz., the Pinewood prop- ty. And yet, if he tried to defend his rights, be would probably be beggared in a very Short time. As he reflected on the subject, his mind re- Yerted to the happy past, when be lived on terms of tender sympathy with Sybil Vernon. dhis thoughts were evidently of a painful Nature, stirring up memories which filled his fart with u passion of regret; so that, brave and high-spirited man though he was, he trembled like a frightened child, and tears, the st he bad shed since his father’s death, came to his eyes and trickled down his harassed- looking face. @ remained at the office Jater than usual, 4ndthen started for Pinewood, which he did ot reach until nearly ten o'clock. “Oh, my dear Arthur, you do look ill!” ex- Claimed Alice, as she met him in the hall. “Tt’s nothing, Alice; I’m merely tired after ® day. Ill go to my own room at once. d-night.” And then he looked into the Parlor, where Mrs, Templeton was sitting, and ade her good-night also, and then retired to own room, “Oh, Sybil, Sybil!” he’ cried, as he flung himself into an easy-chair with a groan of de- ‘pair, “Proud, haughty, unfeeling girl!” he Sontinued, ‘ to take such an ignoble advantage ®f my unhappy lot!” And the night wore on, and still he sat there Communing with his distraught soul; nor did he Obtain the relief of sleep until the dawning light of another day had spread itself over the ®astern skies, CHAPTER III. ‘Sw MEET AGAIN,” On the following day, after a hurried break- fast, Arthur left the dining-room and retired to bis study. The haggard and anxious expres- Sion of bis face had caused deep concern to his aunt and cousin, but they had refrained from Teferring to it in his presence, fearing that any Sympathetic inquiry even might have given ira pain. -“T can see plainly that Arthur’s mind is Rreatly disturbed,” remarked Mrs. Templeton, in a low voice to her daughter. She was a pale, amiable-looking woman, with lue eyes, and an abundance of hair which was almost perfectly white, and which she wore in Neat folds under her mourning cap. “T noticed it last night, mother,” replied Alice, sadly. ‘I wish that it was in my power to be of some assistance to him.” “ You can see, Alice, that he is not a man to ask others to share his troubles,” continued the Widow, reflectively. “Yes, and I think that it is a pity that he Should be so reserved when people are longing to comfort him.” “ Apart from his business worries, I suspect ‘hat be has other troubles which he woula Peainteliy keep to himself.” _ “ Ab!” exclaimed Alice, looking inquiringly tuto her mother’s face. “ Your poor father, his unc'e, told me that at one time it was expected that be would bave Sained the hand of one of the richest girls in this part of the State—a Miss Vernon, whose estate is in ourimmediate neighborbood. But the match, if ever it existed, was broken off, and Miss Vernon is about to become the wife of a young man, the son of a New York banker, I believe.” ? ‘Perhaps that has something to do with Arthur’s unbappiness.” And having said this, Alice became mocdily silent. Suddenly she arose from her chair and walk- €d to the window, where she remained for a few minutes gazing meditatively at the scene Outside, Then she turned, and approaching feet. ‘‘-You will not. be angry with. me, dearest mother, for what I am going to say?” ‘‘ Angry with you, Alice!” exclaimed Mrs, Templeton, in a tone of surprise, ‘No, ’'m sure you won’t, Well, it is this: I should like to earn my own living; to go out as a governess somewhere, Arthur is poor, and I am a burden upon him!” and she tender- ly clasped her mother’s white hand and kissed it affectionately. “‘ Nonsense, child! Are you not going to look after the interests of the farm?” ‘‘ Ah! no one knows better than Arthur that that was a childish plan of mine. He good- naturedly approved of it; but I think that he regards me as a silly girl for having thought of such a thing. .No, mother, I must go to work in earnest if I would be of any use to you and to him,” “But, my dear child, I’m sure that Arthur would be deeply offended if you were to show such small appreciation of his kindness as to desire to leave Pinewood.” “Oh! I shouldn’t say anything to him about it, mother, I could go away quietly, and you could explain matters to him afterward.” “ Alice,” said Mrs, Templeton, after a short silence, ‘‘I must have a little time to consider this proposal of yours. At present I am not prepared to come to any decision. Here is Arthur, dear!” And Alice rose to her feet as her cousin en- tered the room. ‘Now, Alice,” he said, with an assumed cheerfulness of tone that did not impose upon her, ‘‘ I’m about to start for Troy. Would you like to walk a part of the way with me?” She gladly assented, and in a few minutes they left the house together. “What a lovely morning!” she exclaimed, as they moved down the avenue under the leafy trees, through the branches of which the sunlight darted in brilliant rays. On either side stretched away the extensive grounds, here and there dotted with clumps of trees or with patches of shrubs and great beds of coleus which flamed in the sunlight like masses of fire. “‘ Certainly Pinewood is a delightful spot,” she added, while looking up into his face with inquiring tenderness, * Yes, it is, Alice, if they’d only let us re- main here,” he replied, in a tone of bitter- ness, After a moment’s pause, she said, while gently touching his arm; “ Arthur, do you think that it is kind to treat us in this way?” ‘“What do you mean, Alice?” he replied, without looking at her. “JT mean that your silence on the subject of your fresh troubles is very painful, very—” She hesitated and turned her head aside to hide ber emotion. “‘ How on earth could you tell that I have met with fresh troubles?’ “Tsaw it by your face the moment: that you entered the house last night.” ‘‘ Then if you’ve found me out, I may as well confess that a new trial is in store for me, and V’ll tell you all about it, if you promise faithfully not to mention the matter to your mother. She is getting on in years now, Alice, and the less she sees or hears of trouble the better.” This unexpected manifestation of confidence in her, coupled as it was with such tender sympathy for her mother, touched Alice deep- ly, and for a moment or two sho could not answer him, Regaining her composure with an effort, she said: “It is very good of yon, Arthur, to take me into your confidence, and I will be careful not to abuse it in any way.” In a few words he told her of the claim put forward by Miss Vernon, and explained that the legal proceeding would be very costly and might involve him in grave difficulties, 5 ‘‘ Miss Vernon must be a very quarrelsome creature, Arthur,” she remarked, when be had concluded, ‘*No; I can’t say that she is, Sybil—l mean Miss Vernon—imagines, I suppose, that she is justified in claiming a right of way through our grounds, and is determined te prove her right.” ‘¢ But surely she cannot know the price whick you may have to pay on account of her deter- mination?” ‘‘Why sbould she trouble her head about that?” he inquired, looking at her with that swift glance which seemed to penetrate the in- nermost recesses of her mind, Alice grew confused, and was afraid to look: at him. ‘‘ Perhaps,” he added, after a short pause, ‘you have heard that at one time I was smit- ten with Miss Vernon’s charms?” Alice bowed. “Tt was a boyish dream merely, Alice, out of which I was rudely awakened. Miss Vernon isa proud and wealthy girl, and Arthur Tem- pleton is a poor man,” And a forced smile played about his mouth as he said this. - “ Not at all proud man, of course,” remarked Alice, with a roguish laugh. ‘“‘ Just proud enough, Alice, to preserve him- self from suffering apy humiliations at the hands of Sybil Vernon,” be replied, in a voice of suppressed feeling. They had passed the gates of the lodge, and were now well on the high-road toward Troy. An embarrassing silence had followed Ar- thur’s last remark, attributable mainly te Alice, who somehow or other felt that this con- fidential chat with her cousin had created an understanding between them, to which, at present, she certainly had no desire to give the least encouragement, Her fears in this direction were enhanced when he said, in a voice which betrayed much feeling: : “Tt is a delightful change for me to have some one near to whom I can confide my troubles, Do you know, Alice, that. there is not another person in the world, I believe, whose sympathy I would care to invite as I have invited yours?’ And he glanced at her tell-tale face with great tenderness while speaking. “Perhaps if you were not quite so re- ticent with others, Arthur, painful misunder- standings might be obviated—with Miss Ver- non, for instance.” “TI tell you, child,” he said, emphatically, “that Miss Vernon is one of the proudest girls Lreathing, and would have spurned me as a coward and a sneak if J had disturbed her with stories of my trials and troubles!” “Ts she so selfish as not to feel for those whe are suffering?” ““T would not like to say that, Alice.” ‘‘ But if she knew that—” ‘‘T know what you are about to say, Alice, and I must repeat, once and for all, that I would not for the world let Miss Vernon im-— agine that she had frightened me into submis- sion. No; anything but that—anything but that!” “Tt seems a pity that two people who might be good friends should be irrevocably alienated, when a few words of kindly explanation would probably clear up all misunderstandings between them,” ‘* We should never have been good jriends, Alice,” be replied, with a sad smile. ‘‘ How- ever,” he added, with forced gayety, “ the past is dead and gone now, with all its hopes - and fears!” ‘¢ Perhaps the future has much happiness im store for you, Arthur.” ‘‘ We will hope for the best at any rate. De you know, Alice,” he continued, while looking at ber tenderly, ‘‘ that I fancy that we shall get on famously together—eh?” “Yes, I hope so, I’m sure,” she re not daring to raise her eyes to his, a se * Ot I SD PE ee ESA. ee ee OPES PO ere ne i ey Se ee ee re ee ee a a Se ee) eee oo 3 ¢ ee eee

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“8 I will look to you now - ate me strength and courage to face my difficulties.” “Ym afraid, Arthur, that I shall be of small assistance to you; but I will do my best _—my very best,” _“ To know that you are anxious to help me, {8 very comforting. For the first time now for some years I am experiencing the delight of sympathetic intercourse, Ab, what a barren _ thing life is without sympathy 4 Then be stopped and pointed out to her a ’ ghately mansion, standing in the midst of ex- tensive grounds. “That is Miss Vernon’s home. It is a beautiful place, and the Vernon property is one of the most valuable about here. The place is called Cherton Abbey.” . Tney had not resumed their walk many “moments when Alice noticed the figure of a ‘young man who was coming toward them, preceded by several dogs, which were gam- ‘boting about the road. ae As they drew near, Alice thought that the - appearance.of this person was familiar to ber, but before she had time to collect ber thoughts on the subject, be stopped in front of them, and held his hand out to Arthur. hae Hallo, Templeton! I'm glad to see you!” he said, in a cordial tone. “Alive was nearly overcome. The stranger of the academy now stood be- _ fore her, but, fortunately, his eys were fixed 2 Templeton, who, ignoring his outstretched ; , eyed him coldly. '“™Mr, Woodville I wish you no harm, -but—” ““ Mr. Templeton,” said the young man, in- ne dignantly, #s the blood mounted into his face, cs if you were alone I would make you an- - gwer for this insult!” Then his eyes for the first time met Alice’s, _ and he staggered back, evidently amazed. ress “6 Come on, dear!’ whispered Arthur, as he /past the young man and walked rapidly away. “That is Banker Woodville’s eldest son, Jocelyn. I suppose he is at the bottom of ~ the proceedings against me.” _. “Why should he be?’ inquired Alice, in a es — low voice. “Because he is about to become the husband a ot Miss Vernon.” “Alice clutched her cousin for support. Then she ‘grew deadly pale, and nearly fainted in his arms, de Are you better?’ he inquired, when she ae _ had recovered. “Yes, Arthur, I’m all right again,” she re- ae “plied, with a sad smile. Be He wished to sccompany her back to Pine- a ‘wood, to which she was about to return; but _ be assured him that there was no necessity (Pine this, as she had quite recovered her strength ee =

A ie o) \ ve "She explained that the attack was due to the uh xcessive heat, and was in no way attributable a ae ‘anything else, a This satisfied him, and tenderly bidding her “ good-morning,” he resumed his wa'k toward Troy, while she slowly retraced her eee Mélyn had disappeared from the road, and : * had probably entered the grounds of Cherton _ Abbey. 7 beat i: “Alice would not have moved forward if he ee been in ber way. She was anxious above all things to avoid him for the future. His - eonduet toward her had been reprehensible in e pb. Sah degree, and had sbe been imposed any serious extent by his perfidious attentions, it would probably have brought _ misery upon her, compared to which her pres- R ent suffering was mere cbild’s play. ae Bhe could not help feeling angry with her- ae: Pad for haviug listened to him when be ad- no esed her at the academy, and for having one af that he was a sincere and truth- kK Pak ’ " 4 j a rude rebuff to her pride to know ay een her foie had been trifled with by this ay RS as sate be had regarded her We a haiti iit who was Ser aR FRITS EIS SY ONS DET PEGE EEE RG SERRE TT ES TNE AC TG RAEI NPAT LA SIAL SS NE RE AY A S.A na TP ae IE MENT Ee Ta EE See TG willing to pay heed to the tender compliments of a fashionable stranger. Thus her mind now dwelt upon this subject —alternately blaming berself and condemning the other; and yet the thought of what might have been had he answered to her first im- pre-sion occasionally darted through her mind, and revived for a moment the sweet dreams which had followed the interview in New York, She was startled from her reverie by the sudden barking of dogs in one of the fields bordering the road; and in another minute Jocelyn bounded over the hedge and stood be- fore her, He raised his hat and bowed. She brushed past him with hasty step. In a moment he was by her side, looking with tender inquiry into her face, **Don’t you remember me?” he asked. She stopped and confronted him, ‘6'Yes, I do; but I'm surprised that you should take advantage of my present defense- less position to force yourself‘ upon me! If you dare to speak to me again, my cousin, Arthur Templeton, shall hear of it!” “You wrong me cruelly, Miss Templeton, for tuat, I presume, is your name, I have never ceased to think of our meeting in New York, aud to cherish the hope'that we would meet agein. Do you believe me?’ ‘*No; I do not.” “ Why should you doubt my word now? You told ein New York that you believed me to be atruthful man. What have [I since done to forfeit your confidence?’ ‘¢ You are area coward toremind mo of the folly of which I was guilty when I permitted you to speak to me in New York!” ‘* By Heaven, you wrong me cruelly!” he cried out, ia great distress. ‘* J am nota cow- ard, nor yet'a liar!” “That will do, Mr. Woodville!” said Alice, with haughty abruptness “If you have a spark of gentlemanly feeling left, you will cease to molest me!” He turned from her with a hasty movement, and she saw him placing bis hands to his face, Sbe walked swiftly forward, and. soon reached Piuewood, feeling sick at heart after this stormy interview. CHAPTER IV, A BETROTHAL OF CONVENIENCE, Ir was a bright, sunny afternoon early days of August, and Mrs. Woodville and her son were seated in the drawing-room of the | banker’s palatial summer residence, chatting on the subject of the latter’s engagement with Sybil Vernon. Mrs. Wocdville—with whose appearance the reader is already familiar—was evidently not in the best of tempers, and her voice was sharp and decisive as sho now addressed her son, ‘Tt seems in the last degree foolish of you, Jocelyn, to give us both so much annoyancs over this matter, Surely, your own good sense ought to teach you by this time that we are not likely to give way to your wishes when they are opposed to the interests aud honor of the family.” Jocelyn locked anxious and distressed, and it was evident that kis mother’s strictures were causing bim pain. ‘But you seem to forget altogether that Sytil’s wishes have to be consulted, and—” “Sybil’s wishes are ia perfect accord with ours,” interrupted his motber, abruptly. “* Are you perfectly sure of that?” © Perractly sure!” Well, I suppose, then, I must— Oh, it’s very hard, mother, to be treated like this!” be exc aimed, as he rose from his chair and walked moodily about the room. “Hard! Is it, then, such a painful thing to becoma the basband of ,one of the wealthiest aud m st beauti‘ul girls ip the State?” in the | “Itisa paiitul ess te if our feelings are not. in bape | have mentioned ss matter, sete ti “ Don’t you care for Sybil, then?’ ie it quired, glancing at him keenly. | “ Certainly, she is very dear to me as an ol6 friend and companion!” ‘““Tf she is very dear to you now, even I that sense, rely upon it that love of the tender” | est kind will spring up between you when you are married.” Mrs. Woodville had scarcely finished speak | ing when her husband entered the room. “T am speaking to Jocelyn about Sybil Ver | non,” she added, turning to him. “The very subject upon which I desire © | have a few words with him. Come, JocelyD; is the marriage to take place this month oF next, eh?” Banker Woodville was a man who rarely failed to have bis own way with people. Prout haughty and arbitrary, be could not tolerat@ opposition to his wishes from anybody; he seemed to think that it was the duty of humad | creatures generally to submit to him, and tod0_ so with good grace, too, if they would escape — incurring bis enmity and anger. ‘“‘T have already explained that I am pre pared to fulfill my promise—that is, if Sy)! Vernon is agreeable. I can’t very well marry her without her consent,” replied his son, whos@ | mood had changed to an attitude of sulle | defiance. : ‘She kas never placed any difficulties in the way, to my knowledge. Sybil has never faile to obey the wishes of her old guardian. dare say she has a will of her own, but she bas ; never been guilty of the folly of opposing it t? mine,” said Mr. Woodville, pompously. “Tt would be a good thing if her example — were followed by your son, Woodville,” oe served his wife, with a reproving glance a their son, who was standiog in the shadow of # q bay-window, moodily contemplating the supvy scene outside, “T would have you know, Jocelyn, once and for all, that my wishes in this matter mis govern your conduct. I will put down aby opposition with unrelenting severity.” And the banker grew very red in the fac? when he said this, and ccughed several time, as if his temper was choking him. “T think, with all respect,” said Jocelyn, 99 he turned and faced his parents, “that youare both very unreasonable.” ‘* Unreasonable!” exclaimed his father; angrily. ‘How dare you tell us anything ° the kind, sir—I say, how dare you?’ ‘And he fretted and fumed about the room i8 a state of great excitment. ‘“‘ Well, allI can say is this — that within reasonable time, if nothing unforeseen hap” a4 | | pens, I will be prepared to give effect to your wishes.” He was calm and firm, and had evidently weighed his words carefully. “ Jocelyn, Vl tell you what I shall deif yo" continue to defy me—” “Tm not defying you,” interpolated his 80”. “ Yes, you are, sir! Don’t contradict me! PIl”—and the banker grew very impressiv® now-—‘‘ deprive you of your present liber@ allowance, sell the yacht and the racing stud, and compel you to live in strict retirement UP” . til you come to your senses.” “You can do as you please,” replied the other, shrugging his shoulders with expressiV® indiffer ence, At this moment a servant entered the roo™ and announced, ‘‘ Miss Vernon.” “Tm glad to see you, my dear!” said Mrs Woodville, embracing the heiress, whose dat and imperious beauty was seen to perfectiod to-day in a light cream tinted costume, 4? with a bunch of brilliant flowers in her sieve Having exchanged greetings with the family she said, ‘ What on earth is the meaning of this fuss about Mr. Templeton’s land right of way through it?” ; And she looks at Mr. Woodville for an an- swer. f “Ab!” he replied, with an enge baving regained his composure, ‘ +i doh peas Te hon ae sae ‘ Yio ; ee wid Bs = alk

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r , : J as § s > ' ¥, "i P A ‘ acting on your behalf—I instructed Murdock | to take proceedings in vindication of your Night, which had been in abeyance quite long ®nough. But, if you remember, I spoke on the subject to you some time ago, and we Agreed upon this step.” “Yes, you did; but I didn’t quite under- Stand the question, my dear sir. It seems to Me to be a questionable proceeding, seeing that r, Templeton isin such difficulties already. I wouldn't like our neighbors to think that I Was taking advantage of his present position to Crush hini, as it were:” She tried to smile, but it was a faint effort, of died away in a nervous quivering of the Ips, “My dear Sybil, don’t distress yourself as to the nature of these proceedings. It is a per- fectly legitimate endeavor to recover rights appertaining to the Vernon property, which Were unjustly—I might say dishonestly—ap- Eirias by the Templetons in times gone ” The banker’s mind was clearly made up on the subject, and it was hopeless to expect any Amount of reasoning could effect a change in ts opinion, Miss Vernon, however, was evidently deter- mined to give expression to her views, and she Yesumed the subject after a moment’s silence. “T quite agree with you, Mr. Woodville, that we ehould stand up for our rights; but, in this instance, don’t you think that it would Only be fair to wait until Mr. Templeton is in 4 position to defend himself?” “A position to defend himself?” repeated the Other, “You little know Arthur Templeton, °r you wouldn’t say that! Why, when Mur- dock ‘offered to settle the matter in a friendly Way, he refused the offer in the most positive terms, and defied us!” _ He is very proud, I know,” observed Sybil, MM a low voice, “Yes, be is; and it’s time some one in the Neighborhood undertook the task of humbling his pride! In some respects, indeed, be has fallen very low, and has brought disgrace on 4n honored name!” “ Has he?’ said Miss Vernon, in a tone of in- dignant inquiry. “Why, don’t you know that he has become a Workingman—a lumber dealer, in fact?” “Yes, I know that in his honest efforts to Tedeem his property he has become a working- Man, Surely there is nothing to be ashamed of in that?” And, with a smile, she looks at Mr. Woodville’s grave face. “He would have acted in a far more digni- fied manner if be bad relinquished his property, and retired to some secluded corner of the World, where his poverty would be unobserved. ® makea parade of bis difficulties, and to bring discredit on the set to which he belongs yY becoming a common day-laborer, is a de- Plorable instance of degeneracy.” “Undoubtedly!” chimed in his wife, with ®mphatic suavity. ' ‘‘What' is society coming to if its members Cannot act with greater dignity under their Nisfortunes? Isay, what is society coming to? °ontinued the earl with impressive gravity. “To its senses, I suppose!” quietly observed Iss Vernon, “Sybil, that last remark of yours savors of Debelanismn ! said the banker with awful so’em- lty, “T must say, that I’m inclined to agree with Ybil about this right-of-way business,” re- Marked Jocelyn, joining in the conversation for the first time. “It’s my duty to see after Sybil’s interests, ey yours. It will be your duty to do so ere Ong, I bope.” This retort silenced Jocelyn, and the subject Was then dropped. , 20 the course of half an hour Miss Vernon on the Woodvilles’ residence—The Towers— ©companied by Jucelyn. : TEA alittle time they walked on in silence, na experiencing a sensation of .embarrass- _ “ent, which was a novel feeling to grow up a's we y ad ¥. 4 hoes _band, and he refused it. A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. | ‘ ‘

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\ A YOUNG GIRL'S ORDEAL. oe. .>"-"—0>9"0€00"*00M—Qn[V¢_._-——’———— ———— OO en Oem eee dtaw the claim which was being urged on her behalf, But Arthur Templeton, ignoring this con- ciliatory step, had placed the matter in the hands of his lawyer, and bad peremptorily re- fused now to come to terms with Mr, Mur- dock’s client, determinedly stating that it was bis: purpose to fight the matter out, and to prove to Miss Vernon and her advisers thatrhe owas right and that they were.wrong. Murdcck knew well that. Arthur Templeton would act in this rash way, and that his proud spirit would urge him to court destruction rather than accept a favor at the hands of Miss Vernon, | Thus acting through Mr. Woodville, who was always willing to) ‘‘ put people down,’”” Murdock managed toventangle his vic- tim in a costly lawsuit, the preliminary ex- , penses'of which Arthur Templeton would not be able to meet unless the lawyer agreed to re- lieve him for‘a time from ths heavy payments duevon account of the Pinewood «mortgage, and this Murdock bad determined not to do. “He now saw the possibility of realizing one of the many sordid and dishonest dreams of his avaricious life. To become the sole owner of the Pinewood estates; to live in the ances- tral home of tho Templeton family, and to on- joy the distinction and dignity which such a position would confer upon him, was the great object at which he now aimed. At the same time he was anxious to effect _ tis purpose without creating any impression among his neighbors of undue harshness to- ward Arthur Templeton. He wished to pose as a:conscientious man, in- to whose hands a fine proporty had fallon in a perfectly legal and fair way. He valued the good opinion of the people of Troy and else- where, and he was determined to keep it if pos: sible, ' Among other things which he had done in the past in order to cultivate the good opinion of his fellow-creatures, this circumstance stands out. pre-eminently.. When Arthur Templeton dismissed the large staff of servants which had been attached to Pinewood during his father’s lifetime, surprise was expressed that he had not retained the services of Miss Eldred, the hoasekeeper, who had lived with the family for many years. Then if was‘anvounced that Mr. Murdock had most: generously agreed to give Miss Eldred the post of housekeeper in his house, and in due course tho lady entered upon her duties, and was still in his service. By such acts of con- sideration the lawyer had established a reputa- tion for’ fine feeling and philanthropy among the people of Troy and its neighborhood. = Two weeks had elapsed since: Arthur Tem- pleton’s mishap, and Mr. Murdock was seated in his private office, poring over legal papers, . when the tenant of Pinewood was announced. i Sharply: With a hasty, if not guilty, movement, the lawyer locked the papers in a safe, and pion turned to receive his visitor. Templeton looked as pale and haggard as usual, and a scar on bis right cheek—the re- sult of the encounter in the fir grove—added materially to his rather woe-begone appear- ance, The lawyer greeted him with the greatest urbanity, and inquired after his health in a manner betokening much anxiety on the sub- ject. * Paying: but little heed to these civilities, Templeton said, in his sharp, staccato tones, “I bave'a matter of business to discuss with you, Mr. Murdock, of the utmost importance. Can you spare me half an hour?” “ An hour if you like, Mr. Templeton,” cried out the lawyer, éffusively. _ J find,” resumed the visitor, after a mo- ment’s pause, ‘‘that it will be impossible for me to pay you the full amount on account of the Pinewood debt for some little time to come. Wou will receive a considerable installment, of eourse, and I shall be willing to pay a fair rate of interest on the balances falling due, but—” « Hold, Mr, Templeton!” said Murdock, ‘¢ You may spare goneeelt the trouble of going into particulars. I,can take no install- ments, Your agreement with me is to hand me the revenues of the estate until the amount due by your late father has been liquidated, and I cannot consent to any departure from that agreement. In fact, it’s not in my power todoso. I had to borrow a considerable sum in order to meet your father’s requirements, and I am still responsibie for the amount.” “Yes; but this action—’ commenced Tem- pleton. ‘“‘Has nothing whatever to do with me as far as your interests are concerned. I tried to effect a friendly understanding between you and my client, but without success. Now, the law must take its courso; unless indeed you are willing to take advantage of Miss Vernon’s sympathetic advances,” said the lawyer, with an ill concealed sneer. ** No; I’d rather sacrifice everything than be under an obligation to Miss Vernon—or to any- body else, for that matter,” exclaimed the ge man, haughtily. Z begin to think that you wish to make an exception in my favor,” remarked Murdock, in a mocking voico. ‘Not a bit of it. It’s purely a matter of business. I'll pay you any fair sum for inter- est in consideration of your agreeing to my proposal.” ** And I most emphatically refuse to depart from the original agreement.” ‘Ts that your final decision?” asked Temple- ton, as he rose from his chair, and looked at the lawyer with that keen, incisive glance which fev7 could face. “ My final decision,” repeated Murdock, in a low but firm voice. Templeton moved to the end of the room, and with his back turned to Murdock, remain- ed silent for a few minutes, looking out ofa window that opened upon a beautiful old gar- den. When he turned and again confronted the lawyer, bis face had undergone a startling change. Amashy pallor covered it, and an expression of passionate sorrow filled his eyes, which but a few minutes back were gleaming with sup- pressed anger. Murdock was alarmed, and rose from his chair. ‘‘T’m very sorry .to see that this matter has put you out so much, Let me fetch you a glass of wine,” said the lawyer, going toward the door. “No, thank you.” After amoment’s pause he added, ‘‘ Under the circumstances, I cannot see my way to carry through the work that I had under- taken. I will not admit Miss Vernon’s claim, nor would I consent to her withdrawal from the action, if you had accepted my proposal. As it is, I must retire from the fight.” Then pausing, he added, in a voice that trembled with emotion, ‘‘ When the necessary formalities have been gone through, I shall be prepared to hand you over possession of Pine- wood!” With ‘a bow, he left the office, giving the lawyer no time to say anything further on the subject. When he reached the outer door leading to the street, he was met by his old housekeeper, Miss Eldred. ‘‘Don’t be down-hearted, Mr. Arthur,” she said, in a cautious tone. s 1 have lost Pinewood, after all,” he replied. “T thought that I should have been able to offer you your old place again; but—” He stopped, shook his head, and sighed heav- ily. ‘‘ Pinewood is not lost—remember that!” res marked the housekeeper, mysteriously, and then, with an affectionate smile, vanished into an adjoining room. Templeton left the laxgecs house, bis mind wholly occupied with the thought of his great loss Miss Eldred’s-words had made no impression upon him. He was too much occupied with grim and a tragic realities to heed the vague and indefinite — expressions of a fine old woman, who had never faltered in her loyalty to the house of Temple- ton. Meanwhile, Murdock was congratulating himself on the success which had attended his schemes, He had not anticipated such a prompt sur- render on the part of Templeton, who was usually eredited with a tenacity of purpose wholly at variance with such conduct. Miss Vernon and Banker Woodville would ~ be regarded by the public as the real perse cutors of Arthur. Templeton, and this would preserve the lawyer from. many disagreeable consequences which might otherwise have attended his acquisition of the Pinewood property. In the course of a few days it became known in Troy that Mr. Templeton was about to leave the Eastern States, and that his property would pass into the hands of Mr. Murdock, It was also rumored that the Jawyer bad for years behaved in the most considerate manner toward Arthur Templeton. Four days bad elapsed since Templeton’s visit, and Mr, Murdock was lazily enjoying an after-dinner cigar in his snug smoking-room, when the evening post arrived. Having glanced at one of the envelopes, be hastily tore it open, abstracted the letter wilh a sort of feverish energy, and read the con- tents. In another moment he was out of the room, hastily packing a few things in a valise. A few hurried words to Miss Eldred, a rush to the station, and be managed to catch the night express for New York. As he sat. alone in a Pullman compartment, he looked the very picture of a guilty man. And on and on through the night, with meteoric flash, the express thundered on its way tu the metropolis. In a corner of the seat he sat, pale but col- lected now. The lawyer was not, aman to give way for avy length of time to a sbock such. as he had received, On the contrary, he soon recovered from its effects, and resumed bis plans with greater determination and energy. Murdock was a born villain, with the mind to conceive daring and ambitious schemes, and with the strength of will and courage to ex- ecute them, Woe betide those who tried to thwart or overthrow him. CHAPTER VI. A FIERY ORDEAL, THE momentous step taken by Templeton, involving, as it did, the sacrifice of that great object. for which he bad worked with such self-sacrifice energy and pertinacity, was not taken without due consideration of the many urgent circumstances by which he was now surrounded, If he had been alone, he would have defended his rights at any cost; but with bis aunt and cousin to provide for, he felt that he would not be justified in risking the loss of every- thing. By relinquishing the property to Murdock now, and dropping all legal proceedings, b® would be able to preserve about twenty thou- sand dollars for -himself, and this was little enough with which to face the world undef existing circumstances. He attributed these troubles to Miss Verno®; believing that it was her purpose to ruin him completely, if possible. She must have been well aware of bis cil- cumstances, he thought, and purposely raise the ‘‘right-of-way ” question in order to involve bim in legal difficulties, out of which he would not be able to extricate bimself. He regarded the offer which she had made to withdraw her claim as a mere ruse, 80 COD™ trived as to place him under an obligation her. And he was fixed in his resolve not accept a favor at her bands under any circu” — stances. —— : a

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| Now, it was a strange thing that if anybody else bad attempted to attribute these sinister motives to Sybil Vernon, he would have been the first to defend her character, When Alice, for instance, spoke disparag- ingly of her some little time ago, he did his best to shield her from any blame in connec- tion with the proceedings threatened on her pehalf, The explanation of this inconsistency was to xe found in the fact of his deep and abiding love for Sybil. Yes; nothing that she could do—and she had done much, in bis belief—to cause him pain and misery, would in the least way affect his love for her. However, he would bear his secret with him to the grave, and she should never know how faithfully he had loved her. His purpose now was to leave Troy as soon as possible, and to go West, where he could purchase land at a cheap rate, and begin farm- ing on a small capital.. Of course Mrs, Tem- pleton and Alice would accompany him. As yet he had not told them of the great change which had taken place in his affairs; but now he was about to speak to Alice on that and on another subject of no less mo- ment, Alice’s anxiety to leave Pinewood, in order to obtain a situation and earn her own living, was now known tohim, Her mother informed him of it, stating that Alice was so urgent in her desire to take this step, that they would find it difficult to oppose her wishes. Templeton could not but admire the spirit which prompted the girl to act in this way; indeed, it quite transformed Alice in his eyes, making her appear a creature endowed with qualities of the highest and noblest kind. “Sbe would make a good wife for a strug- gling man,” he said to Mrs. Templeton, when she told him of her daughter's anxiety to ob- tain a situation; and these words filled the widow’s heart with delight. It was late in the afternoon of an August day when he found an opportunity of speaking treely to Alice, Since the morning walk al- ready described, when they met Jocelyn, she had managed somehow to defeat his purpose of having a serious conversation with her. He met her on her return from the Home Farm, which was still visited daily in ber desire to make good use of her time. “80 Pve caught you at last!” he said, with a frank. smile, as he stood before her, and sought to read the secret which he knew well lurked in the depth of her blue eyes. “Yes, Arthur; and I have caught you 1’ she replied, with a timid smile, as she bent her eyes to the ground and blushed. “ Alice, why have you avoided me lately?” he inquired after a moment’s notice, as they Walked slowly, side by side, toward a densoly- Wooded portion of the park. She made no reply, but her blush deepened, . @nd her bosom rose and fell with a tremulous motion. ‘‘ Perhaps you have heard the news at the Home Farm?” . She stopped suddenly, and raised her eyes to is «“ Yes, I have, Arthur. What does it S™Mean?” ‘Tt means that we shall have to leave Pine - Wood, Alice. Yes, dear; fate has not favored my designs, and the principal aims of my life ve been defeated!” It was the first time that Alice had seen him tray such symptoms of emotion as were now Visible in his countenance, and as she saw him almost unmanned by his feelings, the tears Tose to her eyes in respousive sympathy. “T need not tell you, Arthur, how deeply I feel for you!” she said, in a low, sad voice. “No, you need not, Alice. I am wellaware f your kindly sympathy for me; and I know, 00, of your generous anxiety to give practical effect to that sympathy.” é She started. ’ “You have no cause to be ashamed, capa he continued, noticing her confusion; ‘ but you most assuredly have cause to feel well satisfied with yourself. I am proud cf you, dear, for you are a good and brave girl!” ‘‘Pray don’t refer to this subject again!” she cried out imploringly; ‘‘ mother promised to keep the matter to herself!’’ ‘‘ Why should you not consult me as to your wishes, Alice?’ he asked, as they resumed her walk. ‘‘ Oh, I knew that you had many things to think about, Artbur, and—and besides—” * Besides, what?” he interpolated. “TI thought perbaps that you might have felt offended, seeing that you were doing every- thing in your power to make me happy at Pinewood.” ** And have failed to make you happy!” he observed, sadly. ‘““No, indeed, Arthur—no, indeed! I am very happy here; but I feel that, under exist- ing circumstances, I have no right to lead an idle life.” ‘Well, Alice, now you can help me in earn- est. I look to you for assistance, when all the world is against me. Will you give it to me?” “Yes, with a willing heart, Arthur!” she replied, with a cordial sympathy. Th-n in a few words, he told her of the exact position of affairs, and of his resolve to leave New York and settle in Dakota. No word es- caped from him in condemnation of Sybil Vernon's conduct. “Now,” be continued, ‘it is my purpose, as you know, to provide for you and your mother under any circumstances. But Alice—’. He paused, for she had turned, and was now look- ing at him in a frightened way. ‘I’m afraid that what I am about to say will not be wel- come to you,’”’ he added, observing the expres- sion of her eyes, and reading the meaning thereof with intuitive readiness. She murmured a few words, but in such a low tone that he could not hear her, “ Alice,” he resumed, ‘if we have to face the world together, why not face it as man and wife? You may rely upon me to be a tender and a faithful husband. Well?’ and he bent over to catch her reply. “‘It is very good of you to make me such a generous offer,” she said, in a low voice, but not daring to lift her sace to bis inquiring eyes. ‘‘ Jt is certainly not a generous offer, Alice, under existing conditions, but it is the best that I can afford to make,” and an expression of pain passed over his face as he said this, She was silent for a moment or two, and then, in a more composed voice, said: “ Artbur, confess it—you do not love me!” ‘‘- You are very, very dear to me, Alice, and I mean to devote my life to you now,” he re- plied, evasively. ‘Yes; but you are doing violence to your feelings in asking me to become your wife.” ‘No, Alice; indeed Tam not! I—” He hesitated and bent his eyes to the ground. “J do not wish to cause you pain, Arthur, but surely it is better that we should under- stand one another now than that we should postpone explanations until it would be too late to remedy mistakes.” “T have already told you the story of my disappointment, and I have not concealed from you the lasting effects of that disappointment upon me.” «And when you told me, I thought, and I think still, that it was a great pity that you should have fallen out with Miss Vernon.” «As that lady is now about to become the wife of Jocelyn Woodville, I think that it would be better for all our sakes to make no further reference to ber ”—and a slight frown clouded his face for an instant, “You are not angry with me, Arthur?” she said, anxiously, as she raised her eyes to his with appealing tenderness, “ Indeed, I am not ungrateful to you for all your kindness to my mother and myself!” she added, feelingly. They were now walking in the somber shade of the trees. : j The sun was slowly sinking behind the hori- : ; ; “SY YOUNG’ GIRLS ORDEAL, 0 zon, and thé western skies were ablaze witl the golden glories of the declining orb. The approach of evening was beralded by a chill. wind, which swept in rustling murmurs through the innumerable leaves, The birds were almost silent; only an occa- sional chirrup came from the feathered song- sters now, as they brooded in ‘loving groupe amid the leafy recesses of the trees. Overhead, a straggling flock of crows winged their homeward flight, cawing -hoarsely, as they sped swiftly on their way; but in a mo- ment they were gone, and the silence of eyen- ing was unbroken. j Templeton bad been walking on slowly for the last few minutes, in silent commune with his own thoughts. He turned and looked at Alice, who was in tears. ‘“‘ My dear girl,” he cried out, as he gently’ placed his hand upon her arm, ‘‘do not distress yourself over this proposal of mine! If you cannot accept me as a husband, let me be a brother to you!” ‘No, no, no!” she sobbed; ‘‘I am not indif- ferent to your tender regard for me—do not imagine that! I know that you are thinking only of my happiness, not of your own!” He stopped and took her bands in his, and they stood facing one another in silence, For a second she tried to respond to his searching gaze, and then bent ber eyes to the ground, Releasing ber hands, be said, in a tone of playful tenderness, ‘‘ Alice, I shall regard your words as an acceptance of my suit; but I fancy that at the moment it would not be agreeable to you that I should require any more explicit declaration on the subject. Take my arm, dearest. It is getting late, and the mother will be waiting for us,” And leaning upon his arm, she returned to the house, feeling very miserable and unhappy. Poor thing! she was still pining and fretting over @ memory which was dearer to her than anything in life, and that memory was insep-. arably associated with a faded rose. For several days Arthur was oceupied in making arrangements for his departure Pinewood. A It was his purpose to use the utmost ex- pedition in carrying out -his plans; indeed, above all things, he was anxious now to re- linquish the cares and responsibilities which had weighed upon his life for the last eight years with such harassing effect, Murdock had not yet returned to Trey; but he had written a letter to Arthur of a very obliging nature, which materially belped the - latter in completing his plans. One thing alone now remained to be settled. Alice had not as yet given him an oppor- tunity of coming to a final understanding with her on the subject of their marriage, and she persistently eluded his attempts to close the matter. : He had decided not to be unduly urgent wit her, and to postpone their marriage if meces- sary until they had left Pinewood. All these things worried bim a good deal, and so aggravated the normal activity of his mind that his general health suffered in con- sequence, It was a dark and chilly night, when, unable to bear the stillness and confinement of his room, he left the house, feeling that be could only obtain relief from the feverish anxieties which oppressed him in the freedom of the open air. Heavy clouds swept in somber procession over the face of beaven; for the wind was high, and sobbed and soughed with weird mournfulness amid the swaying branches of the trees. Intermittently the moon’s rays shone through the vaporous canopy overhead, touching the fields and the trees with silvery radiance for a moment, and then again relinquishing them to the darkness of night. He walked slowly down the avenue, grateful to the rushing wind which soothed the feverish throbbing of bi temples. i? Sf Fe ee ON ee

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40 A His mind for the last few days had been re- verting with insistent longing to the days of his intimacy with Sybil Vernon. All her dainty little ways, her outbursts of temper and tenderness, her, girlish love for him, and the many kindnesses which were ex- changed between them, now came back to his mind and filled his eyes with tears, Passing out through the entrance-gates, he gained the high-road and moved slowly forward, his mind vainly seeking to struggle against the flood of tender thoughts which beset him. Suddenly a strange crimson shade seemed to spread over the black sky, and was faintly reflected in the somber pools of water which recent rains had left on the road, He watched the curious phe- nomenon; the shade was spreading, and as it spread, its hue became deeper and deeper. Soon a great expanse of sky was gleaming with a fierce red light, and rolling volumes of smoke, like foam-fringed waves, were rushing and whirling through the murky sky. Arthur rushed to'some rising ground in the neighbor- hood, A moment was enough to convince him. Cherton Abbey was on fire. He ran to the lodge-gates of the abbey and forced them open. The lodge-keeper was on the point of leaving for the house, ’ E “Bad business, David,” he said to the man. “* Are the people safe?” he added, hurriedly, as accompanied by David he ran swiftly up the avenue toward the abbey. “We've just sent a messenger to Troy, and my son has gone to Mri Woodville’s,” said the man, in breathless tones, as he ran by Arthur’s side. When they reached the abbey Arthur found that one wing of the huge building was almost completely enveloped in flames. _ _“ Are yowall safe?” he cried out to a group of domestics who were standing near, paralyzed with fear, “Oh, for God’s sake, Mr. Templeton, save Sybil!” shrieked an old lady, coming forward and falling upon her krees at his feet. He recognized Miss Chinnery—Sybil’s aunt, “Ts she still in the house?” he asked, in a hoarse voice, “Yes; I entreated her to come with me, and she promised to follow me; but instead of doing 80, she went back to try and save her old nurse, who is a helpless invalid. Ob, what shall I do —what shall I do?” ‘Ts she in the right or left wing?” , “In the right!” answered several voices. “Ladders here!—quick!” shouted Arthur, as he ran nearly to the end of the right wing, the front of which was a lurid mass of flame, A ladder was brought. Several people tried to dissuade him from the desperate undertak- ing, but sternly pushing them aside, he ran up the ladder with amazing rapidity. Gaining the parapet, he ran along the nar- row ledge until he came toa small window, which he broke in, and, heedless of conse- quences, plunged into the house and into the reeking volumes of smoke which filled the place. He gained a long corridor, at one end of “= which the flames were shooting up in quiver- ing tongues of fire, while round and about him _ | the walls cracked and groaned with the heat; \ and ever and anon, above the deep rumbling of the apprvaching conflagration, thunderous “crashes resounded as the heavy walls and solid blocks of masonry gave way and melted into the devouring flames. On he went, until be reached a room which ‘was within a few yards of the advancing fire. The smoke neariy choked him. Still he groped . his way about. Suddenly his hand touched a cold face, and he leaned over it. It was the body of the nurse. The crackling of the flames, as they burnt through the thick walls, warned him that ina few minutes he would have to leave or perish, He listened intently. A low groan caught his _ ear. Ina moment he found Sybil. She was _ @n her knees in a corner of the room. Quick as thought he clasped her in his arms, 4 uh 4 za. ' : for she was insensible now, and rushed back. He struggled bravely through the smoke, and at length reached the parapet. Holding his precious burden tightly to his breast, he ran along the ledge, There was not a moment to be lost, for the flames were now darting out of the windows immediately below him, and the smoke almost stifled him. With a roar like ten thousand angry lions the demon flames suddenly rent the roof in twain, and the wall upon which he now stood trembled as a reed trembles in the wind. Clasping the insensible girl to his breast he gently let himself over the ledge. Tbank God! the ladder was firm and safe! Then cautiously he went down step by step, and amid the ringing cheers of the very con- siderable crowd which had now gathered about the house, he handed Sybil over to her friends, Mr. Woodville, Jocelyn, and several other gentlemen warmly congratulated Arthur, who, however, paid little heed to their words. The fire-engine had now come from Troy, and willing hands from the neighborhood as- sisted the fire brigade in their efforts to save a portion of the abbey at any rate. Sybil so far recovered eonsciousness as to be able to explaia to those about her that the nurse had died in ber arms—died murmuring prayers for the safety of her young mistress, In all probability the aged creature was thus mercifully spared a death of terrible agony in the flames, Arthur, feeling that he had done his duty for the night, escaped unnoticed from the crowd, and returned to Pinewood, jaded, but very grateful and very happy. CHAPTER VII. LOVE’S VICTORY. SEVERAL days had elapsed since the disas- trous fire at Cherton Abbey, and Sybil Vernon was slowly recovering from the nervous shock which she sustained on that terrible night, She was staying at The Towers, where she was visited daily by Doctor Chalmers, a local practitioner of high repute. For the first time since her arrival, she was permitted this morning to rise from her bed and sit in an easy-chair by the open window. Tt was a beautiful day, with a soft blue sky overhead, flecked here and there with snowy patches of cloud; and the sun shone brightly upon the earth, and in its glowing beams the dew on the grass sparkled and flashed like diamonds, A gentle breeze from the west, laden with the perfume of wild flowers, blew in at the open window, and softly kissed the pale face of the reclining girl. And from wood and mead- ow came the joyous caroling of bappy birds, soothing her mind with sweet pictures of the beauties of summer. “‘ How sweet life is upon a day like this!” she murmured, ‘ Janet,” she added, address- ing her maid, ‘“‘have you heard anything about Mr. Templeton? Is he quite well?” The maid shook her head, ‘but made no reply. ‘““Why don’t you answer me?’ continued Sybil. ‘* Well, miss, the doctor told me not to an- swer questions, for fear of disturbing you.” ‘“‘Never mind the doctor,” said Sybil, ur- gently. ‘* Mr, Templeton is quite well, miss.” “ Thank God!” “You know, I suppose, that he is about to leave Pinewood?’ continued Janet, who was an inveterate chatterer. “cc Yes.” “ Everybody’s very sorry, miss. Mr. Tem- pleton is such a favorite. But there’s no help for it now, I suppose. They do say that you’ve had a hand in sending himaway. But I don’t believe that, miss—no fear!” “Why do people say such cruel things, Janet?’ said Sybil, faintly. YOUNG GIRL’S’ ORDEAL. — “ Ah, that’s just what I say, miss. The doctor’s young man told me the other day that it’s all over Troy that you brought an action against Mr. Templeton, and that he has to leave the country, as he basn’t money to pay lawyers to defend him. Which is all lies, and so I told Sam—I mean the doctor’s young tmhan—miss.” Sybil was cut to the heart when she heard this, but she said nothing. “Mr, Templeton’s marriage is— What’s the matter, miss?” cried out the servant, as a deadly pallor suddenly came into her mistress’s face. After a moment or two Sybil revived, and said: “Just a slight attack; I’m all right again.” A rap at the door announced visitors, and in another moment Miss Chivnery and the doctor entered the room. “Now I can see at once that you have been disturbed,” he said, as he cast a searching glance at Sybil’s face. ‘‘ What silly tattle have you been saying?’ he added, turning to Janet, who, with a guilty expression of face, was trying to escape unnoticed from the room. ‘* About Mr, Templeton, sir,” meekly replied the maid, “You have neglected my instructions, Leave the roum!” he said, sternly. “T alone am to blame, doctor. I feel quite well enough now to talk about—about any- thing,” remarked Sybil, with a faint smile, Doctor Chalmers, having satisfied himself that she had made satisfactory progress since his last visit, turned to her aunt, who was anx- iously watching his face as he timed Sybil’s pulse, and remarked: ‘‘Yes, we're doing remarkably well; and there is no reason why we shouldn’t go out for a drive to-day.” ‘“‘That’s good news, doctor, indeed!” said the old lady, delightedly. ‘Mind, vot more than a mile!” he continued, with a grave smile, ‘Not as far as Pinewood, even, just to say a few words?’ cried out Sybil, in a pleading tone. “Tl forbid the drive altogether if you men- tion Pinewood again,” And the doctor, as he said this, exchanged a significant glance with Miss Chinnery, “All right, doctor, Pll obey you.” Then, after a moment’s pause, she added, “It’s re- ported in the neighborhoud, I understand, that Ive had something to do with Arthur Temple- ton’s approaching departure from—” Sbe stopped, then struggled to continue, and burst into a flood of tears. “T understand you perfectly,” said the doc- tor in a soothing tone, as he gently placed his hand on her arm and tried to pacify her. “And you wish me to contradict the report, eb?” “Yes, if you please, I cannot bear the thought of being regarded as the cause of Mr. Templeton’s misfortunes!” The doctor promised faithfully to give effect to her wishes, and soon afterward left her in charge of her aunt, Sybil gradually grew more composed, and after half an hour’s quiet chat with Miss Chin- nery, was able to go down-stairs to the morn- ing-room, where she met Mrs. Woodville and Jocelyn, both of whom cordially congratulated her on her recovery. Tn a few minutes Mrs, Woodviile and Miss Chinnery left the room, thinking that after a week’s separation the young people might like to confer alone for a little time. Sybil was afraid that her betrothed would now kiss her, but he merely pressed her hand to his lips with a cordiality that was rather friendly than tender. “Tm so glad to see you up again, dear Sybil!” he said, in a tone of frank sympathy. ‘“‘ Ah! what a terrible escape I’ve had, wy good Jocelyn!” ‘Terrible indeed l’ he echoed, ““T’m so anxious to tell Arthur Templeton ~ i i { : a Pen ) ’ Dy pce y sel

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ye Sg » ‘A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. how deeply grateful I am to him!” she re- marked, after a short pause. ‘‘ Naturally. You owe your life to him. He is a noble fellow, truly, and we are all proud of him now. It is a pity that he is so distant, and, if I must say it, so very unfriendly to his neighbors.” ** He has good reasons for his conduct, I am sure,” she said, meditatively. “ No doubt; but when father wrote to bim afew days ago, asking for an interview, he might have granted it. Father wished to thank him personally on your behalf and on his own behalf; but Templeton declined to see him, saying tbat he was very busy in com- pleting his arrangements for leaving Pine- wood. “If you called, ’'m sure that he’d see you, and I should prefer you to take my message to him. Will you oblige me in this matter, Jocelyn?’ And she looked at him appeal- ingly. The request evidently caused him some an- noyance, and for a minute or two he was silent. “‘ Then, in a low tone, he said, ‘‘ Templeton is such a strange fellow now that I’m doubtful whether he would treat me civilly or not. I never knew a man upon whom trouble bas bad such a very disagreeable effect, though we know that the essential features of bis cbar- acter are unchanged.” “ Perhaps for my sake he will treat you as of old, Jocelyn. We must be very tender with a man whose life has been full of trial and of pain.” “Yes; I agree with you, Sybil.” “ Then you will go to Pinewood to-day?” “ Yes. “« Aunt must go with you, of course; so that if Templeton is absent, you may seo Mrs, Templeton and her pretty daughter.” Jocelyn started, and turned his head away to escape Sybil’s searching glances. ‘“‘ By the way,” she continued, “I should like to send a wedding-present to Miss Tem- pleton, I’m so anxious to be on good terms with the Templetons now—so anxious, at any rate, to show Arthur that I am not ungrate- ful. Every moment of my life is due to him, every—” Sho faltered, and again the tears coursed down her cheeks, but she checked any further display of feeling. ; “Vm so weak!” she murmured apologetic- ally, as she placed her handkerchief to her eyes, mm Well, what am I to say to Templeton? The kinder the message, the better I shall like it,” he said, with a frank smile. ; “Tell him that my beart is full of gratitude, and that I long to see him to tell him so; and that—oh! that I pray night and day for his welfare!” “Yes; Pll not forget.” “Of course, the moment that the doctor gives me permission, Ill call upon bim.” She was silent for a moment. ‘ “You'll do your best to be friendly with Templeton, dear Jocelyn, for my sake?” she added, with affectionate emphasis. “Certainly. By the way, Sybil— Now don’t be frightened!” he remarked, observing a sudden change in her face. “Ob, I’m not frightened, Jocelyn; but your Constrained and formal tone is not welcome. Speak to me in your own friendly way.” _ And she looked up at him, and smiled with Ingenuous tenderness. “Well; you see, I know that it’s nof an agreeable subject to talk about—I mean that it’s not’agreeable to you,” he continued, hesi- tatingly, “T can guess what it is, and unless I am Sreatly mistaken, the subject is not particular- ly pleasing to my dear friend, Jocelyn!” and er dark eyes looked into his with searching intensity for a moment. “Tl not say that, Sybil; but at any rate, *m glad to see that we understand one another, Well, my father is very urgent about our mar- riage, and so is mother, and between the two, my life is nearly worried out of me. The marriage arrangements are being made; al- ready father is in correspondence with a friend of his in Newport, who has a cottage to let, where, according to the present plans, we are to spend our honeymoon.” ‘ At present, Jocelyn, I don’t know what to say. Ishouldn’t like to cause my dear guar- dian—your father—any anxiety or pain, if I can possibly avoid doing so; but—” and she stopped, and then added, with a timid laugh, ‘we mustn’t give way to him in all things.” ‘Well, I'm glad that I’ve mentioned the matter to you, at auy rate, You will, I am sure, understand that any steps of an ur- gent kind which my parents may take will not bave my approval, In other words, I will do nothing that will give you pain.” ‘<T know that, Jocelyn, dear, good friend!” And their eyes met in a glance, which was fuli of affectionate sympathy and trust, Later on in the day, Sybil and Mrs, Wood- ville went out: for a drive, and Jocelyn and Miss Chinnery proceeded to Pinewood, They found Mrs. Templeton at home, and were very cordially greeted by the widow. ‘‘ My nephew is making preparations for our departure, so that his time is very much occu- pied. He went to Troy this morning, and I don’t expect him back until a late bour,” said Mrs, Templeton, in reply to their inquiries, At this moment Alice entered the reom, and was introduced to the two visitors, Miss Chinnery and Mrs. Templeton, like the two old gossips that they were, becsme ab- sorbed in some topic of local interest, and this gave the young man an opportunity which he bad long desired. ‘“‘T suppose you’ve heard the particulars of your -cousin’s noble conduct,” ke said with a nervous smile. He was not at all at bome in the presence of this young lady to day; indeed, for the matter of that, she, too, was feeling awkward and embarrassed, ‘No, I have not,” she said coldly. “Indeed! I’m surprised at that! It’s the great topic of conversation iu the neighbor- hood!” “ My cousin is not the man to talk much of his good deeds,” she remarked, in the same chilling tone, ‘Well, it’s only right that you should know all about it; and if you don't mind, Ill tell you.” She bowed, and then he gave her a glowing account of Arthur Templeton’s heroic conduct, dwelling, with cordial emphasis, on the daring and courage displayed on that terribly eventful occasion, ‘“And I am commissioned,” he added, in. conclusion, ‘‘ to convey Miss Vernon’s thanks to him, and to explain thas she will thank bim in person when she is well enough.” “(It is gratifying to know that she. appreci- ates the great service which be rendered her,” said Alice, still uarelentingly cold and formal. ‘She has always had a very high opinion of Arthur, and she has vever ceased to regard him with affectionate solicitude.” And his manner became earnestly impressive and tender. “She has a strange way of showing her solicitude,” said Alice, with a scarcely percep- tible sneer. “If you refer to the right-of-way question, I may as well tell you that she was opposed to the course taken by her lawyer, who was, act- ing under instructions from my father, and when the matter was brought to a crisis by the fight in the grove, she stopped ali proceedings, and was very angry, and is still very angry, that Mr. Templeton should have been subjected togo much injury and annoyance.” ‘¢ Oh, of course, you'll take her part!” But Alice had no sooner said this than sbe regretted it. ‘‘’m anxious,” said he, in a low and earnest voice, ‘‘ to promote a good understanding be- tween your cousin and Sybil Vernon. If Arthur knew how deeply she sympathizes with him in bis troubles, and how anxiously she de- sires his welfare, it could not fail to create an effect upon his mind which would be favorable to my wishes,” “You are playing a strange part, Mr. Woodville,” she said, in a cutting voice. They were sitting in the shelter of a deep bay window, some little distance from the two elderly ladies, and they were thus enabled to talk with greater freedom than would other- wise bave been possible, ‘Tm afraid, Miss Templeton, that you are determined to regard me as a designing and insincere man. You have wronged me in the past; do not wrong me now!” “You have a very treacherous memory; but I think the less we say about the past the better.” And her. blue eyes flashed with scornful anger as she now looked at him. “Will you grant me the favor of a few words of explanation?’ he pleaded with urgent tenderness, “For what purpose?” “1 believe that I could succeed in removing certain cruel misunderstandings if we were alone for a few minutes,” “Que word, Mr. Woodville. Is Miss Ver- non about to become your wife?” she inquired, in a low, trembling tone. “Tf you will grant me this interview, I wilk explain everything to you—everything! Ob, do not refu-e me!” She rose from her chair, ‘‘Mr. Woodville wishes to look at the pic- tures, namma,” she said, as she went toward | the door, followed by Jocelyn. 5 “All ripht, Alice, “You'll find us here when you c me back,” replied Mrs. Templeton, who was thoroughly enjoying her gossip with Miss Chinnery. ; The young people left the room and pro- ceeded to the drawing-room, ‘Now, I’ve acted very foolishly, I know, in acceding to your strange request,” remarked Alice, as they walked slowly up to the apart- ment, “You have acted with great kindness, Miss Templeton,” said he, in a voice that still be- trayed great nervousness. ‘‘You asked me,” he resumed, after a moment’s silence, “if a marriage was about totake place between Miss Vernon and myself, or, rather, ii we were en- gaged. As a matter of fact, my parents de- sire such a marriage, and in deference to their wishes, an engagement dces exist, but our hearts are not corcerned in it, No; on my faith and honor as a gentleman, both Sybil and myself desire to be free,” ‘‘’m surprised to hear that. Perhaps when you are married you will learn to love eack other,” she said, timidly. ioe ‘Married! We shall never be man and wife; but we shall always be sincere and faith- ful friends. Ah, if you had only listened te the explanation which I wished to make when we met that morning. on the Troy road I should not Lave entered into’ any engagement with Sybil, and it would have saved us both rmouch pain.” ea ‘I di n’t quite see why my refusal to listem to your explanation should have had the «ffect you mention,” said Alice, in a tone of indiffer- ence, i ““Then have you quite forgotten our meet- ing in the academy?’ he inquired, as he sought, with. eager tenderness, to read the ex- pression of her blue eyes. ” “It is too late to refer to that, Mr. Wood- ville; and, indeed, it would be wrong of me te listen to any further reference to it now,” she replied. : ; He stopped, and said, in a yuice that was husky with emotion: ‘‘ Am I speaking to the affianced wife of Arthur Templeton?” Asshe saw the Jook of agony now creeping slowly over his face her heart was touched with pity for him, and the tears rose unbidden te her eyes. “ He has asked me to be his wife, and I— He fell back from her, panting and gasping like one stricken to the very heart. 44S - . ,

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“ sie ae ere rand} Bab r wits hie a Ob, tay pee _my darling!"—and he stretched ‘his 3 out toward her. - Teannot—I dare not!” mi es ‘stopped, and clasping ber hands together, met her face heavenward. “Tf you marry Templeton, you will break two hearts! Yes, Alice, for Sybil loves him _ fas dearly as I love you!” _ But do you love me?” she sobbed. A quick flush of joy mantled in his face as © caught her in his arms, and pressed her t : ae And then their lips met in a lingering pres- sure of love, and they knew that their hearts were united forever. <The. ~~ lovers, after a very tender confer- ; turned to the sitting-room, and in a ew utes Jocelyn and Miss Chinnery left ?inewood, And need it be told thatthe faded flower was kissed again and again that night y its fair owner? Alice thought that of all ee bappy girls in the world, she was the bap- _ CHAPTER VIII. _AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE. . Her first wish now was “4 orcad at heen and personally thank Arthur Templeton for his gallant conduct; and ) was about to give effect to this wish, when ahi received @ most unexpected visit from Miss ‘Eldred, Murdock’s housekeeper, which com- s plete! altered her plans. Sybil was still at ywers, and received her visitor in the ry, » where there was not much chance of disturbed. bie that you’ll forgive me for troubling Miss Vernon,” said Miss Eldred, seating tant dience to Sybil’s invitation. af you wish well to Mr, Arthur, es bea ‘rag ‘to assist him that you yeh “hs rightly, Miss Eldred; and teful to you for remembering that the is of the Templeton family are as dear Ah! times may change, but ; has not changed; rather has it now » devoted to the purpose of serving Ar- mpleton, to whom I owe my life.” ‘ell, then,” resumed the housekeeper, with ; 1 smile, “this is the object of my jur’s A ome al’ he Would not let mo'remain sI ‘Pg lbepare to receive my usual wages, knowing his circumstances, I had re- i ‘accepted Mr. Murdock’s offer of a aoe his establishment. 1 knew well that Mr. Murdock merely wished to keep me under his own eyes, so that ould not make those efforts on Mr, Arthur’s ‘which he suspected, and rightly sus- e ere the object of my life, bave tried, but in vain, to obtain in- ion in his house. 2 is 80 watchful and cunning, that up to ever, within the last few weeks I have or two things which, as time presses, I t we ought to follow up. » " oat are they? Tell me!” cried out Sybil, ed her ea feat with joy. st was this,” resumed Miss Eldred, n0dical precision. ‘‘A little time Mr. s-mencgnnen received a letter bearing the eae of the writing on PICULA! pect of serving Arthur Templeton. “emer thes fice ods beige 3 © At any pate, no sooner did Mr; Murdock read the letter than he started by the night express for New York. “Then I searched through some of the old papers in the office and found writing which corresponded with the writing on the envelope. “ Ab!” exclaimed Sybil, as she leant forward and listened with absorbing intensity to the housekeeper’s story. “And,” continued she, ‘further inquiries convinced me that. a clerk of the name of Stevens was the writer of the letter which had caused Mr Murdock to start for New York in such an expeditious manner. ‘That clerk left Murdock’s employ eight years ago, and has not been seen since. “Now, I fancy that man could give us valu- able information on the subject of the Temple- ton mortgage, if we could find him, “‘ At all events, seeing that in a few days, now, Mr. Arthur will have to surrender his house to Murdock unless something such as we desire should be discovered, I think that the circumstance ought to be made use of, and without delay.” “ Certainly; I cordially agree with you. But what do you propose?” ‘Well, some one ought to go to New York, and watch Mr. Murdock’s movement's. “Tm afraid to go, as he might return at any moment, and so defeat our purpose. ‘For, if I rouse his suspicions now, our last chance is gone!” “Do you know his address in the city?’ asked Sybil, quickly. “Yes; I forward his letters to him every day te this add-ess.” And she showed a slip of paper to Sybil, who at once took possession of it. “ll go to New York myself,” Miss Vernon said, decisively. ‘‘Of course, no one must know of our purpose,” she added, as she rose from her chair, her every movement indicating resolute energy. “But are you well enough to undertake the journey?” inquired the housekeeper, anxiously. “The hope of serving Arthur Templeton has put new lifeinto me! Oh, Miss Eldred, I would give the world to be able to repay, in part, the deep debt of gratitude which 1 owe to the dear - aap apa of my childhood, Arthur Templeton!” The good woman sighed deeply, and then said: “In the old days, Miss Sybil, I cherished hopes which can, alas! never be realized!” After a pause, she added: “I understand that your marriage is to take place shortly. Is that true, Miss Ver- non?” ‘“‘Nothing has been settled yet. I mean to direct my attention solely to this business, I will start to-night, and you will either see or hear from me in the course of the next few days.” After exchanging a few words of cordial sympathy with Sybil, Miss Eldred left The Towers, and Miss Vernon proceeded to make arrangements for ber journey. She explained to Mrs. Woodville that urgent private business necessitated ber immediate departure from The Towers, exchanged a few burried words with Jocelyn, and then devoted her attention to packing up. Her aunt insisted upon accompanying her. ‘“You will be back in a few days, dear?” remarked Mrs. Woodville as she attended Sybil down to the hall. “Yes, my dear rsa I’m sure not to be longer.” “How on earth am I to console Jocelyn during your absence?” ‘Tell him to go to Pinewood, and study the pictures there,” chimed in Miss Chinnery, with a shrewd smile. Jocelyn colored up, and avoided his mother’s rina glance by the wit expedient of alking away. Their farewells were ex , and Sybil and a shes sod hey Towers ~. eves = s parte Gaktons whee they caught the ‘Ran York | train, Murdock was stopping at a private hotel om Broadway, and Sybil succeeded in engaging rooms in a house at the opposite side of the street, : On the following morning she sta ttemeel her- self at. a window which commanded a view of the entrance to the hotel; and in less than an hour she was rewarded by seeing Murdock, who issued from the bouse, and paused on the steps fora moment, . Sybil was ready, and having assured her aunt that she would soon return, and that there was . no occasion for being apprehensive on her ac- count, left the hotel as Murdock moved down the steps, and walked toward the City Hall. In a few minutes, he hailed a hack, and drove away. Sybil quickly engaged one, too, and told the driver to follow the vehicle occupied by the lawyer. Tbey drove for some distance through a mis- erable portion of the city, and finally the cab in front stopped at the corner of a mean-looking street, Sybil dismissed her carriage and followed the lawyer, who was now walking down the street. He entered a tall, dingy house, in the front windows of which several cards were exhibited, with the familiar announcement printed there- on:— ‘* APARTMENTS TO LET.” Taking up her position some little distance’ from this house, she watched for the departure of Murdock. In a half an bour he again appeared, and walked swiftly away. Then she went to the house, inquired about the apartments, and was shown into the parlor by a slovenly, red-nosed woman, who appeared to be’afflicted with a chronic snuffle. She arranged to take two rooms in the house, and paid a deposit, which put the landlady in excellent humor. ‘‘ Have you any Jodgers at present?” inquired Sybil, in a tone of friendly inquiry. “Only one, miss. A miserable creetur’ he is, too. It’s wellfor bim tbat he bas such a friend as that gent as just went out—Mr. Cartwright—who pays his bills,and pays the doctor, and, in fact, behaves hisself like a real gentleman,” said the landlady, ‘“‘Ts your lodger an invalid, then?’ inquired Sybil, who had taken note of the fact that Murdock had assumed the name ef Cart- wright. “Yes, miss; but he.don’t keep his bed. He remains in the sitting-room all day, groaning an’ moaning like—)ike—well, like anything.” ‘What's the matter with bim?” “Mr. Cartwright says sunstroke. I say drink,” replied the old woman, emphatically. , “Did you say that his name was—" Sybil paused. ‘‘Stevens, miss,” said the landlady, inno- cently. Miss Vernon felt at once that she was of the right track, but she carefully abstained from any display of feeling which migtt have provoked the suspicions of the landlady. ‘‘1 don’t know how long 1 may want these rooms,” she remarked, after a moment’s si- lence; ‘‘ but in any case I will engege them for a month, I may not make much use of them, as I have several friends in New York with whom I shall spend the greater part of my time.” The landlady was highly pleased with this arrangement, and when Sybil followed it Up _ by handing ber a dollar to buy whatever her fancy should suggest for a treat, she was hardly able to restrain her delight. j In a few minutes the woman left the net 7 to make these purchases, and then Sybil — mounted the stairs, knocked at a door on the ee next wa a and in chedianes Se a taobla sez ee haggard looki ‘buing Timbs one ie

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v \ bis A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. a doubled up on a sofa in a corner of the room like a beaten hound. “Your name is Stevens, I think?’ she said, as she looked at him with a penetrating inten- tity of glance. He started up, and returned her glance with a feeble stare. “You had a visitor here just now?’ she continued, without taking her eyes from his face, “ Yes—Mr. Cartwright.” ‘His name is not Certwright, and you know that very well!” Drawing herself up to her full hight, and eying him so that he fairly winced under the unrelenting sternness of ber glance, she added: ‘His name is Samuel Murdock, and—” ‘Oh, curse the name and curse the man!” shrieked the wretched creature, in a sudden frenzy, which seemed to endow him with a wild strength and activity. ‘(I knew it was coming! I felt it was coming! It bas been haunting me night and day, aud now it has come!” And he flung himsélf back on the sofa and moaned despairingly. “Your mind is burdened with guilt. You have done a grievous wrovg to a noble and high-minded man, and Murdock reaps the benefit, Is that not so?” And she bent over him to catch his reply. He tried to hide his face from her. She grasped his arm, and wrenching it aside, looked piercingly at bim, then said, in a low, intense tone: “ Arthur Templeton!” It was enough, That name seemed to act like a shock from a galvanic battery, and fling- nig himself on the floor, he knelt at her feét. “Pm not the chief culprit! I only made use of my guilty knowledge to get money out of Murdock. Oh, bave mercy upon me, good lady, for indeed I have never known what it was to be happy since I gave way to this hor- rible temptation !” And he crawled to her feet, and sought to kiss the hem of her dress. “Tf you tell me the trutb now, and deliver up to me any documents in your possession, I Will not fail to use my influence in your be- half.” He rose to his feet, staggered out of the room, and returned again in a moment, with a small bundle of papers in his hand. : “Bight years ago,” he said, ina low, peni- tential tone, as he stood before her with bowed head, “I was in Murdock’s office. “On the death of the late Mr. Templeton, Murdock, who wes that gentleman’s lawyer, @laimed to bold the title-deeds of the Temple- ton estates against advances which he had made to the deceased gentleman, He produced ac- eounts and vouchers in support of his claim, which were duly recognized by Mr. Arthur Templeton. “But I knew very well that Murdock had been fully paid by the late Mr. Templeton, and I managed to obtain the receipts which Mur- dock had given against the various payments Made to him on account of the loan. “TI threatened to produce these receipts un- less he made me an ample yearly allowance, to which he agreed, stipulating only that I should oc. again return to Troy or its neighbor- ood ‘Latterly my mind has been greatly troub- 6d on account of the rascally business, and I wrote to Murdock, telling him that if I didn’t make a clean breast of it I would go mad. “So he has been visiting me, and I promised to obey him, and to keep quiet, in considera- tion of a pension of one thousand a year,” “Have you got the receipts?” eagerly in- {uired Sybil, “No! I have handed them to Murdock!” and the wretched man groaned aloud in an agony of repentance, “Too latel—too late!” murmured Sybil in a low voiee, as she clasped her bands convul- Sively together, and sought to contre] her emotion.in the presence of this. disappoint- ment, ‘¢ These vouchers,” said the wretched. crea- ture, ‘‘ which relate to the transaction in ques- tion, may be of some assistance to you, Miss Vernon. Take them in God’s name!” And he handed the documents to her. ‘*Does Murdock know of the existence of these vouchers?” she asked, as she carefully looked through the papers. “ He believes that they bave been destroyed. I fear, now that he bas the receipts in his pos- session, they will not greatly serve your pur- pose. Oh, Miss Vernon! would that you had come in but a few minutes before, and then—” “‘ Wretched man,” cried out Sybil, angrily, ‘¢ you have indeed much toanswer for! These papers are of little, if any, value, as far as I can see.” She walked about the room in silence for a few minutes, and then, confronting the unbappy wretch, said; ‘‘ You must—mind you, must—go down to-morrow to Mr. Templeton’s residence, and I. will probably see you there, Allis not yet lost—though, indeed, I fear that that wretch Murdock will. be triumphbant!”’ “T will not fail you, Miss Vernon. To- night I will start for Troy, and, with God’s help, I will be at Pinewood to-morrow; though, with you, I have little hope now of defeating Murdock’s designs. _ Recollect that he is a most determined as well as clever man!” Sybil was impressed by the evident sincerity of Stevens, and believing in his repentance and his desire to aid her in the purpose which she had in view, she thus addressed him: ‘T will not fail to use my influevuce on your behalf should we succeed in rescuing Pinewood from the clutch of Murdock. In any case recollect this: that your efforts now to undo the evil of whith you have been guilty will plead for you, not only here, but there!” And she solemnly raised her eyes aloft, ‘““May Heaven bless you for those kind words, miss!” cried out the feeble creature, as he clasped his bands together and sobbed like a child. Sybil addressed a few comforting words to him, and then went down-stairs, where she met the landlady, who had just returned to the house, Giving the old woman to understand that she would probably not return again, and begging of her to accept as a gift the various good things just purchased, she left the house, and quickly returned to Broadway. As she reached her hotel she saw Murdock on the point of leaving the one opposite, and guessed that he was about to return to Troy. CHAPTER IX. UNPLEASANT INTERVIEWS. ‘( WELL now, Sybil,» will you tell me about this mysterious business which has been en- grossing your attention?’ said Miss Chinnery, when she met her niece in their room, after her return to the hotel. “You'll know all about it in good time, auntie,” replied Sybil, not deeming it safe to say anything of her discovery to her amiable relative, whose gossiping tendencies were well known to her. Late in the afternoon they left New York, and reached The Towers about nine o'clock. When Sybil joined the family circle in the drawing-room, Mr, Woodville, who bad been away from home when she started on her journey, looked at her with an expression that clearly indicated deep displeasure. ““T regret, Sybil, that you should have un- dertaken this mysterious journey to New York without baving first consulted your old guar- dian, and, I confidently hope, your future father-in law!” said he, in bis pompous tones. “TI am very sorry, dear Mr. Woodville, that circumstances did not allow me to speak to you before leaving, but what could I do?” And she looked at him and smiled vivaciously, though she was elated with the success of her trip, but was anxious to be on good terms with him now, “Tt has been customary hitherto,” observed the banker after a short pause, ‘‘to consult me on matters appertaining to the administration of the Cherton property.” “You are under some misapprehension, for my visit to New York had nothing to do with the administration of my own property,” she said in a tone of friendly explanation. Mr. Woodville rose from his chair and left the room. ‘i He was clearly incensed with Sybil for bav-' ing ignored his authority, and would probably observe an attitude of rigid sternness toward her for the next few days, Mrs. Woodville soon followed her husband, and then Sybil found herself alone with Joce- lyn. She noticed that he was unusually silent and reserved, and though they were now alone be still observed this unfriendly attitude. ‘‘Now, Master Jocelyn, why are you looking so glum and distant this evening?’ sbe said with playful cordiality, as she seated hersel near him and gently tapped him on the arm, “Ob, Ihave something to tell you, and f haven't got the courage to speak out!” And be looked at her with a pleading ex- pression in his blue eyes which indicated much anxiety of feeling. 13° ' ‘“Why should you be afraid of me? Com Jocelyn; you know that Iam to be depend upon!” Still he was silent. ‘Now, T’ll get angry with you if you bebave in this way,” she continued, “Vm afraid that you'll be angry with me under any circumstances,” he said in a low voice, “So long as it has no reference to one sub- ject, which we have agreed not to revive ex- cept under great pressure, I will listen to you in the most amiable of moods.” He looked at her steadily for a moment, then, clasping her hand with friendly warmth, said: ° ‘Sybil, Iam in love!” ‘‘T’m delighted to hear it,” she answered cor- dially. “The beloved one’s name is Alice Temple- ton. Sybil started, . ‘‘ Arthur Templeton’s cousin?” she asked. “The same,” “But is she not engaged to Arthur?” ‘* He wishes to make her his wife, certainly; but there is no love between them, and it would involve a sacrifice on both sides if his purpose were effected.” ‘Does he know of your intentions?” she asked in a voice that betrayed considerable anxiety. “No; we thought it better not to let him know anything about it until we are married. He is leaving Pinewood to morrow, and being a headstrong and impulsive man, he might have refused his consent to the marriage and taken Alice off with him. So—” He paused, and a smile played about the corners of his mouth as he looked at ber with eyes brimming over with humor and delight. “So what?” she asked, impatiently. “ We're going off tomorrow. Alice is going to live with a nice old lady until we can get married.” “You'll do nothing of the kind, Jocelyn,” she remarked, in a tone of playful reproof., “You're not going to betray me* ie Sybil?’ be cried out, in a tone of genuine alarm. “‘ Betray you? I wonder at you saying such a thing!” After a moment’s pause, she added: ‘* When you see Miss Templeton to-morrow, instead of persuading her to run away, per-— suade her to tell ber cousin of her love for you, and of your desire to make her Mrs. Jocelyn | Woodville.” “‘ Are you mad, Sybil?” “Do as I tell you, and you will not be sorry for having followed my advice.” ‘(But supposing Templeton refuses his con- sent, and insists on taking Alice away with him, what then?” “Oh, Templeton will not refuse his consent, ’ wy t ) t 7 Ph =e fe ts ‘ 0g ee Pe SS A oe a ee eer te

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7 44 A YOUNG GIRL’S ORDEAL. ~ and I am sure that he will not take Alice away with him.” “But he is leaving Pinewood, and he starts for the West in less than a fortnight.” “Ts he leaving Pinewood?” “Yes; Murdock enters into possession to- morrow,” “Take my word for it that Pinewood will remain in the hands of Arthur Templeton!” she said, in a solemn tone, which deeply im- pressed Jocelyn. “By Jove, Sybil, you surprise me!” he ex- claimed, as he looked at her noble face, which was looking sad and sorrowful now. ~~. “You will obey my instructions?’ she asked, alter a moment’s silence. | “Certainly? “*Now kiss me, Jocelyn, and call me your ’ dear sister, for such I sball always be!” “My dear, dear sister!” he said, as he kissed her face with the hearty fondness of a bro‘ her, Unseen and unheard by Sybil and her com- panion, Mrs. Woodville had entered the room, and had been listening to the latter part of the above conversation. With a quick, angry movement ‘she now stepped forward and con- fronted them. “For some time back,” shé said, passionate- ly, “I have suspected that you were both con- spiring to defeat the arrangements wh'ch ha re been made for your welfare; but I little sus- pected that you, Jocelyn, wotld have been privy to such an infamous plan as that which I have just overheard. I will instant'y in- form your father of this shameful business.” “For Heaven’s sake, mother, do not act hastily!” pleaded Jocelyn, as he placed him- self before the door to bar her exit. “You will create further complication if you mention the matter to Mr. Woodville now. Jocelyn is determined to marry Miss Temple- ton, and I cordially approve of his choice, Really, my dear madam, I would advise you to reflect a little before speaking to your hus- band,” observed Sybil, in a tone of suppressed anger. “Sybil Vernon, your perfidy shocks me! I will not trust myself to speak to you now— false and treacherous girl!” And, so saying, Mrs. Woodville brushed past her son, and left the room, ‘‘What on earth shall we do, Sybil?” cried out the young man despairingly. “Jf my fa- ther should go in a tearing rage to Pinewood, _ and insult Templeton, then I will inevitably lose Alice.” “You must try and see her to-night, then, if possible; and, if the worst comes to the ‘worst, you will have to carry out your original _ plan, and remove her from Pinewood until matters take a favorable turn,” She was greatly agitated while speaking, and it was manifest that this incident had ex- ercisod a most disturbing effect upon her mind. “But you forget that Templeton will pro- bably leave Pinewood to-morrow—at least, as far as I know,” he said, urgently. “Yes; but let us hope, at any rate, that something may happen to—” The fear of failure rose up in her mind while she was speaking, and checked further utterance. The sole chance of success de- pended on that man Stevens; and how could she trust in him! Perhaps, when he reached Troy, he would again fall into the hands of Murdock, who would take good care to pre- vent him appearing at Pinewood, and so frus- trate completely her last hope of aiding Ar- thur Templeton. As these thoughts were passing through her _ mind, Mr, and Mrs. Woodville entered the room, ‘ls it true, Jocelyn, that you contemplate breaking the engagement which exists be- tween you and Sybil?” asked his father in a voice of commanding sternness, He was pale with anger, and had evidently much difficulty in controlling his temper, ‘Circumstances, my dear father, have com- ' « pelled me to do so. The engagement was ‘your whims and fancies. never agreeable to either Sybil or’ myself, and—” “*T see, I see!” broke in the other abruptly. ‘*My wishes are to be ignored; the cherished designs of my life are to be frustrated to suit But I would have you know, Jocelyn, that in the regulation of these sffairs I am master, and I will tolerate no interference with what concerns the honor and dignity of my family.” ** Surely ycu can have no objection to Miss Templeton?’ urged Jocelyn, in a Voice of en- treaty. “Yes, sir, [have. Your future wife shall be Sybil Vernon, and—” *T have decided now to decline your son’s proposal, Mr. Woodville, Pray understand that!” said Sybil, firmly. “Oh! I dare say you wish to shield Jocelyn as much as possible; but I am responsible for your future, and I am not going to let you sac- rifice yourself for the sake of some romantic whim!” Mr, Woodville said this in a calmer voice. He was, as usual, confident of overcoming all opposition to his wishes, and’ this no doubt helped to allay bis anger, “T have no doubt that this is a trick of Ar- thur Templeton’s,” chimed in his wife. “ He thinks that if he can separate you two, why then he might have a chance of obtaining a rich wife for himself and a rich husband for his cousin,” ‘*He knows nothing whatsoever about the matter,” said Jccelyn, enorgetically. ‘Oh, you’re a silly boy, Jocelyn!” remarked his fath r, contemptuously. ‘* Templeton is a sbarp and clever fellow, and he bas managed to entangle ycu by tbe aid of bis pretty cousin, ITesn see it all plainly now. To-morrow I'll call on this astute gentleman and settle the matter for a few thousands. He wants money badly, and that is at the bottom of all this trickery.” *‘T assure you, father, that Templeton is per- fectly innocent of the conduct which you at- tribute tohim. Do not insult the man by such an offer as that which you have just men- ticned. The consequences of your so doing might give us all cause for life-long regret!” And the young man was visibly affected as he said this, ‘‘Nonsense, Jocélyn, nonsense! IT ilseeTem- pleton to-morrow and arrange matters with him, ‘You will please make arrangements for leaving bere by the first train for town—at any rate you must go by the mid-day express; and I shall follow ycu in the course of a few days. Meanwhile Sybil will remain under your care,” said Mr. Woodville, as he turned to his wife, ; Then he rose from his chair, and, with Mrs, Woodviile, left the room, evidently under the impression that the young people would re- spect his wisbes, and cease to offer any further opposition to his designs. ‘*There is only one thing to. be done now,” said Jocelyn, when his parents had left the room, ‘]’ll go to Pinewood at once, and try to see Tempeton himse/f. I'll endeavor to have afew words with Alice first. If father goes there in the morning he will inevitably de- feat my purpose unless I succeed in gaining Templeton’s consent to-night.” “Tm so confused and worried now, Jocelyn, that I w'll not trust myself to give advice. I can only assure you of my hearty wishes for the success cf your plans, To-morrow,” she added, solemuly, ‘“‘ will decide my fate, and the fate of one who is very dear to me!” The tears rose to her eyes while she was speaking, aud as he bent down and kissed ber face with brotherly tenderness, she broke forth into a passionate fit of sobbing. ‘‘ Leave me—leave me!” she cried. “Every moment is precious to you now!” Swiftly and cautiously he left The Towers, and burried toward Pinewood. Entering the grounds, he rapidly approached the house, ‘and’ having reached to within a short distance of the front entrance, paused to consider the next step which it would be advisable to take. As his eyes scanned the building, he observed lights in the sitting-room; and he resolved upon at once approaching the window of this room, which was but a few feet abovedhe ground, to find out if he could attract the attention of Alice Templeton. Yes; she was in the room alone. He tapped gently at the window, and she started to her feet, and looked wildly about her; then she approached the window, which was partly open, thus enabling Jocelyn to address her in a low voice. “« Alice— Alice!” he said, as he leaned for- ward and thrust his hand toward her. ‘(Is that you, Jocelyn?’ she cried out in a tone of alarm. ‘Yes; I want to see you, dearest—urgently | Pray come out at once!” She started back from the window in evident alarm. Then, after a moment’s pause, left the room, and reappeared before him in a few seconds, When they had exchanged the tender greet- ings of love, he noticed for the first time that she was in tears, ‘¢ What is the matter, dearest?” he cried out, as he gently wound his arm around her waist and led her away from the house to the shelter of a clump of neighboring trees. ‘Oh, how can I ever tell you? But surely you, too, must have bad news?’ she said, fal- teringly. He looked fixedly at her for a moment; then slowly withdrew a few paces from her, saying: ‘“‘ Alice, have you repented of your promise to me?” ; ‘‘ Listen to me patiently, Jocelyn, and I will tell you all.” Then she paused for a moment, resuming again, in a tone of imploring tender- ness, ‘‘I have been deeply touched by Arthur Temploton’s sufferings; and it seems to me that I have acted very selfishly in arranging with you to desert him when he isso lonely and friendless. This feeling has grown upon me to such a degree that I had decided to ask you to postpone everything until we had left Pinewood. In the course of a few days I would speak to Arthur, and tell him of our engagement.” ‘Tf you value my love, Al.ce, you will have to give up that plan. Listen to me. My father knows of my love for you, and is coming here to-morrow to:charge Arthur Tem- p'eton with being privy to the match, and with having made it in order to procure a rich husband for you. Therefore, I mean to see Arthur to-night and candidly confess to him that we are éngaged, and that no earthly power shall separate us!” : “That is utterly impossible, Jocelyn! Ar- thur is in such a depressed and gloomy state that we do not like to speak to him, even. He spent the greater part of the day at his pa- rents’ grave, and now he is in his own room, I believe. Could you not dissuade your, father from coming here to-morrow? Tell bim that you will never again see me—perhaps that will deter him from bringing such an odious charg® against my unbappy cousin,” ‘‘How can I possibly do that, Alice?’ he cried, in a tone of alarm. “And do you think that I am base enovgb to subject my cousin to the indignity which would be involved in your father’s conduct?” she asked, with indignant emphasis. “Then tell Arthur Templeton to-morrow that we are engaged, and that I am willing to enter into a friendly understanding with him on the subject so long as he is willing to re spect that engagement. Will you do that, dearest?” ; And approaching her, he clasped her to hi8 breast. “Tf he is better to-morrow I will do £0 Hark!—a footstep!” and she hurriedly with- drew from his embrace, ‘ It is Arthur him- self!” she added, in a low voice, ‘For Gods sake, depart!” He stepped to her side and imprinted a lin- ‘gering kiss upon her responsive lips. — ‘Aud thus they parted for the night. ‘

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CHAPTER X, “ONLY THIS—I LOVE YOU STILL.” On the following morning Sybil sent a mes- sage to Miss Eldred, requesting that lady to proceed to Pinewood at once, Then, accom- panied by Jocelyn and her aunt, neither of whom was yet aware of her purpose, sbe left The Towers for Arthur Templeton’s residence. On arriving at Pinewood they found a group of servants and laborers at the door of the house, evidently waiting to give their old mas- ter a parting cheer on his leaving the “old place,” Sybil was informed that Mr. Templeton was occupied with Mr. Murdock. She insisted, however, on being instantly shown into the parlor, Jocelyn and her aunt and Miss Eldred remaining in one of the ad- joining rooms. Arthur Templeton, looking fagged and wor- ried; was standing near a table in the center of the room. The lawyer, looking as bland and amiable as usual, was addressing him in a tone of voice that clearly indicated a keen relish of the pro- ceedings, In a dim corner of the room an elderly lady was weeping silently, and a beautiful girl was bending over her, evidently trying to adminis- ter comfort. “‘ Miss Vernon!” said Artbur Templeton, in a surprised tone, as be bowed with haughty civil- ity to Sybil. “Mr, Templeton,” she said, as she approached him with outstretched band, ‘let me first tell you how deeply grateful I am to you for hay- ing rescued me from @ cruel death.” He pressed her band, and smiled faintly. Murdock then eszayed to touch her hand, but retreating from him quickly, she stared at him in silence for a few moments. ‘Has Miss Vernon forgotten her old adviser —her—” The lawyer stopped suddenly. There was something in her glance that disturbed even his equanimity. i ‘‘T know you better than you are aware of! Turning to Templeton. she added: “ Are you about to surrender your property to this man?” And she referred with a scornful gesture to Murdock. “ Certainly; but—” “You were going to say that I have no right to interfere,” she said, quickly. “Your proceeding isa strange one, certain- ly,” he observed, with a forced laugh. “Itis! I6 is!” Up to this she bad succeeded in controlling her emotion, but now the tears were glistening in her eyes, and there was an expression of eager tenderness in her face. For a moment she could not proceed. Then, in a voice that vibrated with passionate scorn, She cried out, while pointing at Murdock, “That man is a thief! Tbat man has been Yobbing you for eight years! His claim is false! d those papers, Arthur Templeton!” And 8he placed the vouchers in his hand. At this moment, Miss Eldred, followed by iss Chinnery and Jocelyn, entered the room, While several servants appeared at the door. “But where are my father’s receipts?” cried Cut Templeton, as he read the papers, “hig is a foul trick to cheat me out of my Tights!” yelled the lawyer, as, with pale face and trembling limbs, he shrunk before the Wrathful eyes of Templeton. : “The receipts were given up to him by Stevens, whom I traced to New York, and Who has confessed the story of his perfidy— ere and heartless perfidy!” cried out Ybil. Then to Arthur, she said, in a tone of infinite enderness: “Arthur Templeton, you saved My life, and I have been the means of restor- you your rights!” ® could not speak, h A look of delirious joy and tenderness lit up aad face, and he stretched his arms out toward °"/ at A YOUNG GIRLS ORDEAL. - _——aoaaoaoaoaoaoaQuauQqqqwaaaooee eeu Jocelyn ran forward quickly, and ‘caught | eventually lived a reformed life on a pension him as he was falling. Arthur Templeton bad fainted! When he recovered consciousness, his first word was ‘‘ Sybil!” Then they all withdrew—the lawyer was already on his way to Troy—leaving Sybil and Templeton together, “Why are you crying, Sybil Vernon?” he said, ina faint voice, as he looked at ber with love-fraught eyes, ‘Because I am happy,” she replied, with- out raising her eyes to his face. ‘And yet for years I bave regarded you as a proud and distant girl, heedless of memories which were all in all to me, for they were linked with the days of my companionship with you,” ‘Why should you have had such an un- worthy opinion of me? What did I do to deserve it?’ she asked him, in a voice of plaintive tenderness, ‘Best and noblest of girls, I misjudged you! Poverty and its attendant pains filled my heart with a sort of anger against my old friends; and sol lived on, a constant prey to doubts, and prejudices, and fears. I longed, yes, Sybil, I longed to tell you that though I seemed a stranger, to you, at least, I never could be one, for my mind was ever busy with thoughts of you,” He paused, and strove to master his feelings; but proud and defiant though he was, he gave way, and covered bis face to hide the tears which were trickling down his cheeks. “But why didn’t you call upon me? Why did you sbun me?” “Because I felt that I was forgotten,” he murmured, ‘¢- You were not forgotten for a single day.” He ‘grasped her hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it with passionate fervor. ‘¢ Have you heard that I mado a proposal to my cousin, Alice Templeton?” he asked, after a monient’s silence, “c Yes.” “Only to-day she told me that she loved some one else, and that she could not be my wife.” “ And you feel the disappointment deeply?” she said, in a husky voice. “No, Sybil Vernon; for I, too, love some one far better than Alice, or any other creature in the world; in fact, I love her with such a deep and absorbing intensity of feeling that I care not what becomes of meif I fail to win her!” He stopped and placed his hand on her shoulder, and said, with a voice charged with tenderness, “‘ Sybil—my Sybil—darling of my heart, will you be my wife?” With a cry of joy, she fell on his breast, and he folded her in his arms, and his lips met hers in a tremulous kiss of joy and love. Ina few minutes they left the room, look- ing both very radiant and happy. H-arty congratulations were then exchanged between the lovers and their friends, Arthur, in very cordial terms, begged Jocelyn’s forgiveness for his unfriendly con- duct on a previous occasion, and added: “You have gained the heart of a very good girl, Jocelyn, and Alice has gained the heart of a very good fellow. I heartily wish you both every happiness!” Sybil did not fail to let Arthur know of Miss Eldred’s meritorious conduct, and the faithful housekeeper was at once installed in her old post at Pinewood. Of course, great difficulty was experienced in obtaining the consent of Mr. and Mrs, Woodville to the new arrangements; but eventually they gave way, and before long be- came fully reconciled to Jocelyn’s choice. Proceedings were taken against Murdock, and he was sentenced to a long term of im- prisonment, Of course hé had to surrender the title-deeds to Templeton, as well as a large sum of money which he had disbonestly acquired by the pro- cess before menti med. Stevens got off witha light sentence, and ¥ allowed him by Sybil. In one of the early days of spring in the new year, the leading citizens of Troy and its neigh- borhood were in a state of great excitement. Carriages drove up to the doors of one of the leading churches and a brilliantly-attired - party entered the sacred building, Ere long they issued forth again, the beauti- ful young wives leaning lovingly on their bus- bands, and smiling radiantly through their tears, Yes; Sybil is now Mrs. Arthur Templeton, and Alice is Mrs. Jocelyn Woodville, The union of these loving hearts was pre- served uninterruptedly for many years, and the trials and pains of the past were forgotten in the blissful happiness of their wedded lives. 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