Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 96) (1881 09 13)
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$2.50 a year. The Only Young Ladies’ f La Ped Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y.,, at Second Class Mail Rates. IK eh PIL me Wy nt alt) By Hin hie sl tyes he Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, FE tes September 13, 1881. No.96, VoL. IV. PUBLISHED WEEKLY ‘BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N.Y. PRICE, 5 CENTS mn i i | i | Haunted Hearts: or, The Broken Betrothal BY RACHEL BERNHARDT. CHAPTER I. WAS IT A GHOST? Cunistuas Eve! How many thoughts cluster round it! It is Christmas Eve when this story begins, so fraught with joy and sor- row to four youtie bearta. ‘ ad . At Larch Abbey, the grand, old, many-windowed building, with “HER EYES DILATED, AND WERE FIXED ON ap} Sms ene HH} 5 Ub yt a? ‘lt SOME DISTANT OBJECT.” the dark gray walls, standing in wide grounds, it is the habit ; — up the various old customs belonging to Christmastide. nein: e weather is seasonable, for it isclear and frosty, and there has beena fall of snow on the previous day, so that to-night there is a magical world without, covered with soft foldings of purest white, which take hea fantastic shapes on the branches of the old trees in the pleasure grounds. see ieee ‘cold and cin earn eb de the tyooki susows own her fullest li and moonlight an -fall h like, but indescribably beautiful. pve tts eine a comes hot aid — ie riers for there are no rough noises here, near grand 0 ey, behind which majestic woods and far-stretcbing plains, B! Deed Ro ee Silence—the solemnity of the moonlight and of the hour might
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bus then she was an antiquated 2 surely be enough to wake an imaginative heart to invest the silence with something of mystery. That wus what was said afterward by most of the er folks assembled taat evening at Larch Ab‘oey. Old Deborah Cane did not say so, however, ame, who had been nurse at the Abbey for years out of num- ber; end who would listen seriously to what an old nurse believed ? Even beautiful Delia Larch smiled when De- borah grew solean over ber ghos stories. Delia Larch.is the heroine of this. story, and never huis she appeared more beautiful than now. _ Sue is dressed i1 a robe o* dark sweeping vel- vot, with only a little of ric .es*, creamiest lace at tho throat and wrists. A jewel gleams in Lor dusky hair; ber dark lashes shade a’ fair caeek, tinted with health and beauty, and when sho raises these lashes, her eyes laugo out their mirtiuful ess, - $bo holds in her hands a furred mantle, ready to throw over her when tie rush of cold air shall Le admitted as the hall dvor opers, for soviral of the guests who have tormed that merry Christmas Eve party reside in the neigh- borhood, and are now going home. And Delia has proposed; and ail those who re- main atthe A‘bcy have'readily agreed, to see the departing guests.to their carriages, Thoy reach the hall; Delia’s handsome brother Regiaald, two or three years her senior, stands beside her. f(y «ill ae Those to cling uth lovingly, for rich as th y aroin tuis world’s goods, tucy are poor in 1olatives—iatuer, mother, und elder brother long sipee in the graye; and 80 Delia owns the Abbey aud its lands, and Reginald is bely to @ gtd larger property, called Mounts Castle; butthe brother und sister live here at tue Abbey together, and the wife of their de- cease. aardian, Mrs. Ashley, dwells with them. he 18 a kind old lady, and, fortuuately tor o's, is fond of gayety. | § of a.ds herein the hall on this occasion ~ 1 764 troduce Delia aid her brother to cur ‘rs. There are many guests b: sides, amou / + *e may notice Lord Lindsay Deane and Lins Tipo dpe gel loa ayo ina beak Si-il Fapsioe, a young ° position sud much wealth. aw in He background are several servants. : ‘Twelve o'clock begins to strike with solemn ‘is/inetnecs, and really no one had any idea iuit 15 was nearly so late. . Lord Lisdsay easts an eppesting glance at T. yo ; does she perceive it? Tt so, sue feigns to ve basy with the departing guests. Bit R ginald Larch h s boldly taken his “ond by Favoretta—or rather, has drawn her vorwart Go Lis side; for ave they not affianced jove.s now? Did 2 xe not tell him yesterJay ‘a j BF oe yesteruay !) that she could return Las love So P-ginald draws Fav’shand within his own 23 m.dal bt beging to chiaie. ; ‘Tbe wide ball door sein gs softly open, and— whoa sight prese:tsi'selt! Hid eversay.y wearsuciia garb of enchanting bo uty under the co d, clear :00nlight? Nob vty thought of the « Jd. _ “God nicht! Morry Ciristmas ani Happy New Year?’ was said by a ls an {the carriages co: Waning the depar'ins visitors r ile 1 away, But lam wrong in saying that everybody anid that assemblage called out t*o good-night anit 1h p00 Wish; for Delia aidy ot. ins. ad thereo’, she gave a cry, suppressed oacol, butit startled those nesr her; «specially + ler eyes dilated, and we.a fixed on some uit itobjeetina Pissing tervor. .. babisit, DT wird ber, _“‘vidn"t-you see?’ sho said, softly end hur- rediv. “Out there i: the snow—thay fizure Sinking away! Oh, Reggy. you noticed his - bt od Lis whole appearance?” “Wo, Lcidu’t; aud I think you mistook the ‘rod putea et light falling on that,bush’ so Wily snoWw-laden, and the cedar bough «bove, vt. & man’s figure,” replied Reginald, in the sume tone, * Oly nol” whispered Delia. If was all. she had time to. say, for the house coor closed. * Come. back into the saloon, good psople, for ., fow moments, that yen may ¢e5 woos lagain bere retiring,” cried Mrs, Ashicy, ieading the way, ‘aed all followed except Delia, who lingered, | pnd said to the old man-ser'vant who hat opened i the door, “TI wish [ could louk out once more!” asked Reginald, bend:ng to- ‘people were exchanging the “Certainly, miss, if you wish it!” And then the cold air rushed in once again, and the won- derful world outside was disclosed tu view. _ Delia, unheeding the sharp air; stood full in the entrance, and gave one searching glance at the cedar bough and the shrub beneath it, and then signed to the servant to close the door. After which she became aware that Lord Lind- say Deane was lingering at a little distance, wistfuliy and timidly regarding her. Delia looked up at him, and a blush stole over her tair face; bat she Jaughed ently. ‘You have been taking another look at the enchanting Christmas Eve?” asked he, coming to her side. ‘* No; at nothing so romantic,” she smiled. “No? Let me ask, then, what was it you honored by your notice?” ““T was searching for the ghost, Lord Lind- say: It may be proper for the hour and time of year; but you wiil set me down as very silly and tanciful for doing so.” “T will.belp you luok for the ghost myself!” said the young lord, warmly. What else might he uot have said if old Hart, the man-servant, had not been there in the background Seber ay lingering till he could pass—Delia and Lord Lindsay were standing in the archway of the inner hall) it is impossible to say. ' ' Old Deborah, too, was waiting in the fore- ground, that she might exchange a ‘‘Good- night” with Miss Delia. Thus there was hardly an opportunity for love-making. In reply to Lindsay’s last speech, Delia said, more pce “Tt was nota ghost that I was seeking ; but [do wish somebody had noticed it as wellasI. It was a figure in a slouch hat, sbriuking away among the trees,” “Til go out and tind him, if he is to be found!” And the young man would have seized his overcoat, and rushed oué into the snow, had not Delia laid tie tips of her fingers entreating- ly on his arm. **To morrow! to-morrow! Oh, not to-night!” she cried. ‘* To-morrow will be too late,” he answered. “We can trace the foot-marks. Oh! please come now into the saloon with me,” she urged. He would have gone any where with her, and was easily persuaded. When they returned to the ae Sg night” with each other. Roe ae s Lindsxy clasped Delia’s hand, he imprison- ed it lingeringly. J : “He loves me!” was the thought which thrilled sty her heart. And a rosy future, all golden with hues of warmest affection, un- rolled itself as by enchantment before her vision > within. Who could chide her? Could she foresee that the mysterious figure of which she had caught a fleeting glance that-night—the dark figure in the slouch hat, hurrying away amid the snow- wreaths, carried with him her destiny? The young girl ascended the staircase with Fay, ber heart still beating to a rapturous tune with Lindsay’s hand-pressure. As she reached her own apartment, her first action was to hurry to one of the windows, and to draw aside the curtains to gaze out upon the ae Her windows overlooked the front of the Ab- bey, and if the reflection of the light streaming on the fantastic white folds of snow had really caused the appearance of a figure, she would like to feel assured if she had made a mistake, But no! Broad and fair fell the moonlight over the particular sbrab she had had in view when the house door was opened, and a dark cedar bough waved above it; but there was no resemblance now to the figure of a man in a slouch hat. : A tap at the door, and old Deborah entered. ‘*T could not go to rest to-night, Miss Delia, without comiug to wish you joy for the Christ- mastid«,” said she, 4 ‘ “Come in, dear Deborah,” cried Delia, draw- ing ler old nurse to the fire. "Then, to the sleepy maid who was awaiting her, ‘‘ Marston you. need not stay a moment more, I shall wait on myself to-night.” And having dismissed her, Delia sat down on the thick hearth-rug at Deborah’s feet. ‘‘Did you hear me call out, Deborah?” said ph rn ag when they had exchanged a few words. ‘*No, my dear Miss Delia; but I know’d there was somethin’ amiss, cos I was watchin’ you. Ard you looked startled, and whispered to Mr. | Reggy, an’ had the house door opened agen. Besides, I heerd you tell my Lord Lindsay as you'd seen a ghost. Which no doubt you did; my dear young lady.” “Oh, no, nurse! I am not so foolish as to think that. But I did see a figure in a slouch hat getting away xs fast as le could cut of sight under the ecdar bough. And I wender whom it could be!” ‘“‘T know!” answered the old woman, myste- riously, and with awe in her tone. Delia looked at her searchingly. ‘‘Yve never said a word to you all these years, but to-night I seem as if J couldnt } oid my tongue,” continued Deborah. ‘ Ab! pour dear Mr. James, dead in foreign lands so long ago! No wonder that on Christmas Eve his spirit should come tv look at the place he 1.ever in life came back to! That was who you saw, Miss Delia; but I wish he could rest, poor Mr. James!” ‘*Nurse, dear,” cried Delia, ‘‘don’t talk like that! 1t pains me, even though I never knew— neither I nor Reggy—our eldest brother, James. His death was so sad, out in the wild ,-rairies, away from every one at home;.and so sudden, too, from the bite of a rattlesnake. Oh, it tiéy had only had brandy enough with them, he- might have been saved!” ‘Twas a sad death, my dear; but sadder still, to my mind, that he can’t rest! For you may depend on it, there’s no ghost but his wan- ders about the old Abbey! A slouch hat I » ell remember he used to wear. Don’t talk of it to other ig dear Miss Delia, or the servants will ta ight. Poor Mr. James would never hurt one of ’em; he was a bit extravagant, I don’t deny; your papa paid bis debts twice, and then he went to ’Merica. But he was a-comiu’ back all right when he died. Show me just now where you see him? Do, now, Miss Delia.” Delia drew her to the window, aua indicated the precise spot where she had observed the figure, at the same time entreating her old nurse not to believe that any ghost could revisit this earth. 5 santas ‘And why not?” asked Deborah, confidently. (Delia’s reasoning was all thrown away.) © ** Well, well, I mustn’t talk on, for ’tis late—a good hour into Christmas Day, so I must leave you to your rest, Miss Delia! But this I do want to say; speak to the shade of ‘your dear brother, Mr. James, if so be he appears to you again. Maybe he wants to tell you somethin’, or to unburden bis mind.” Toe “Dear Deborah, 1 wish you didn’t believe in ghosts,” said Delia. ‘But tell me, how old would my brother James be if he had lived till to-night? He wasso much older than Reggy or m. we : me % He’d ’a’ been nigh upon forty. Well, he was always kind to his old nurse, that 1 know, if he was a bit extravagant, which I don’t ceny. Young men will be young men. Mr. Reggy’s a wonder, so full o’ spiritsand up. toeverything, an’ yet that steady! Well, good-night, Miss Delia, or I shall talk till dawn.” — Delia returned her good-night kindly, and ere she laid her head on her pillow, once more drew aside her curtain, and gezed out on the enchant- ing prospect of snow, lighted by the rays of the moon. What a start she gave as she gazed! Was it fancy, or was there actually the dim.figure of a man, wearing a slouch hat, standing out there amid the snow-wreaths? ' As she propounded this question to her own fast-beating heart, two o’clock tolled out upon the stillness of early morning. CHAPTER It. THE TAP AT THE WINDOW. RETURNING daylight awakened Delia, and her first remembrance was connected with the oc- currence of last night. ** Atjeast,” thoughtshe, ‘ Tcan trace the mark of footsteps in the snow, if a man really was there by the old cedar tree!” But what was her disappointment to find that a thaw had set in, and that rain bad been pour- ing down. There was no chance now of seeing the mark of footsteps in the sodden snow. _ “And so you. saw a ghost last night; D.?” asked Reginald, jokingly, ashe greeted his siste:: at breakfast. ‘So says Deborah,” she answered, “You should have let me go and search for the apparition last night, Miss Larch,” remark- ed Lord Lindsay; taking the place by her side. “Will you come and show me the exactspot where you discovered it? Then I shall know, in case you wish to sehd me after it on some’ other. oveasion,” : Sie y all means; for -it is not every one who" woul have the courage to pursue a ghost,” laughed Delia. - de
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*‘Then you will really come out and instruct me as to the whereabouts of the apparition?” pursued he. Delia said ‘ Yes,” with a little blush, for her heart told her wnat his anxiety to encounter the ghost really meant. Was it not for the charm of being alo:.e with her that he p-tition- ed in this earnest way that she should show him the exact spot near the cedar tree? Of course this was patent to others as well as to Delia; but, as no one could see any reason why Lord Lindsay should not fall in love with her, nobody thought of checking their inter- course. And so. they went out together, though it threatened tv rain, and tae prospect out of doors was dim and gioomy. But what was that to these light-hearted peo- le? They were together, and to them the eaden sky looked bright. _ Happy thoughts, brimful of bliss, were cours- ing through the young man’s brain as he walk- ed by Delia’s sile along the curving graveled pathway which Jed to the cedar tree. this hopes leaped Hp; and would not be repressed, Surely he might hops now? Tnis sweet.and most loy- able girl would never d ceive any man! Asd lately she had listéned, wot unwilliugly, to his words, and Ler smiles and blushes cane and went when he addressed her. Shoult he risk all on a word? How soon might he teil her—so far as speec': could do that—how infinitely dear she was to him? That was the thought ia his beart as they went on toward the cedar tree, i ‘‘ Here it was that I noticed the fizure,” said Delia, softly. .‘* But now there are onl, patches of snow, so we cannot determines whether or no any one camo lyre ” “Who saysthat?” cried Lord Lindsay, hasten- ing forward, and picking up, near the side of the path,.a, han -kerchief, not v ry noticeabie, Tying agaiust.a patch of ineltimg suow, ‘“}lero is a remnant of the app ritipn, I do believe!” exlaimed be. ‘‘ Well, be has some teste; for thisis white, and fine cambric. Now for the jae ot his ghostsnip.” ‘Delia looked with some interest, as the letters “J. L.” were found embroidered in a corner of tho handkerchief. ‘*J must show this to my old nurse, Deborah who really believes | saw a. spirit last nigiat,” she said. Just after this discovery, down came the rain, . and our youn, couple burried to the carriages which were to take the party to church tuis Christmas morning. , The. day flew by on light wings; .or youth and health, avd love sped the hours quickly. On the morrow, the Jarge and merry assem- blage at the Abbey discussed, with much ani- mation, some amateur theatricals shortly. to be performed tuere, i 1 which Delia was to sustain one of the principal characters. “T hope yorvll be. ready for the rehearsal, Delia,” said her brother. “‘ We're all waiting for you; and I don’t. believe you’ve learnt a word Of your part.” It was too true; and Delia declared that she would. shut bersclf up immediately in the li- brary, and make up for past shortcomings. “Now, nobody come near me for a whole hour: Leave me undisturbed, and I will forget everything Lut my part,” said she, gayly. _Lorid.Liucsay opened the door for her exit, ‘saying, in a very Jow toue, ‘‘ Remember me a little, even though you are determined to forget usall just now.” She made as thouch she heard nothing; but her heart beat fasts: she entered the liorarv. And she, dit rememl-er Lor t Lindsay, his last words and ton siort e first few iwinutes chas- ing away all attention to the part she had to earn. But she must compel herself to get the lines by note, el-e what would Reggy say? So she sat down resolutely, and fixed her eyes upon the AZO. # Ror some short time all was quiet in the handsome apartment, a a only the sighing of the winter wind made itself heard. Bat. suddenly the quiet ws disturbed by a noise against ono of the lonz windows, which Opened onto. the pleasure-grotncs—a noise, it mnight be, of a swaying bouyh egsinst the pane, or a signal from some person ouside, Delia looked up hastily. aoe 466 It was yet early, nct much past, five o'clock, and the shutters in the library were not yet closed, P She approached the window at, which , the sound was Beery «nd. Jis'ened. intently, im- pressed with the idea that somebody was there; while the remembrance of last night’s adven- See se a ik nS ns Be a Es ee et se * 2s ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee es ee eee a A A HAUNTED HEARTS. ture, and of the handkerchief found the morn- ing before, immediately rushed into her mind. But she ‘could Soak he no noise of footsteps amid the sighing of the wind, and returned to her book with redoubled attention. Then, once more the tap at the window was repeated—u«jistinct and Jouder than at first. elia tried to persuade herself that it was oc- casioned by the swaying ot a bough; but she was pretty sure that no branch had ever reach- ed that window before. Determine to pry no further attention, she read on. But again the persistent summons roused her. lt was in vain she é@ssayed to learn her part perfectly, and rising, softly, she unfastened, with a 001 deal of noi e, the long French win- dow, and looked out in o the darkness. Gradually —for the moon struggled through clouds—the outlires cf the wintry world with- out became visible; the dark belt of wood be- yond the lawn, and the nearer shrubs and trees, “It any one taps again, [ shall now be able to detect it!” thouvht Delia, watching, instead of learning her part. But no summons was repeated, and Delia, a little ashamed of Lavivg thought seriously of a noise outside the window on a winter night, rigeelest to say nothing of the tap on the glass. ; : “Time is up, Delia,” said) Reginald, peep- ingin,laugbingly, about ten minutes alterward, ‘Aud Tam coming, Reggy. I have done pretvy. well,” unswered she. **That’s all rizht, then. Do come back with me to the drawin,-room now, or we shall have Lindsay doing something desperate. _He has dome nothing but fidget and look wretched ever since you left the. room.” ‘*Pray do not be atsurd, Reggy!’ said Delia, TeupOvingly, “Tt cannot matter to Lord Lind- any whether I am in the room or out of it.” his young lady. wus not well pleased to have her love-affiirs ‘hinted at, when they were, as yei, in this undeclared state. Her life’s happi- ness depended on being assured of Lindsay’s luve; but she was ready to feign profound in- difference, even to her darlng brother, tiil what she hoped was made certainty by Lind- say’; own words. ‘Oh, very well! Then I've neither eyes nor ears,” laughed Reggy. ‘‘‘ But, come along!” Ho\7 often she looked back to these last happy hours, this last happy evening, in the sorrow which rapidly overwhelmed her; the delightful talk vith Lord Lindsay, the cheerful group of frienjs, the merry evening, the gay dinner, during which she sat by Lindsay’s side, and he whispered soft nothings which conveyed so much to her. And once, looking up, she caught a glance of radiant happiness from Fay’s blue eyes, and knew that her joy was caused by Reggy’s deep affection. When—so few hours later—it Jay with her to sive that happiness from ruin, Delia remem- hered that glance, and resolved that she would suffer alone, that Fay and Reggy should not be separated because she herself nsust mourn. onder than ever was the hand-clasp Lord Lindsay gave to Delia that evening, as they said good -night. ; She was still dreaming of it as she went into her own pretity rooin. Her sweet) musing was interrupted by the voice of Deborah, ; “1 made bold to wait here for you, Miss Delia,” said she, ‘‘for I’d somethin’ to ask you.” “Certainly! Sit down, dear nurse,” said Delia. Deborah sat down, nothing loth; but her face was sad, and she was paler than usual. “¢ Miss Delia,” said se, “*I wanted to ask you if *twes true what I heard them sayin the ser- vants’ hall this evening, that you’d found a handkerchief near the spot where the appear ance. came last night but one ago?” “Flow could 1 forget ‘to tell you?’ cried Delia, — ‘‘ Yes, nurse, Gear, I did find a hand- kerchief. We were passing it round at luncheon to find an owner for it, so then I'suppose the servants hear what had happened.” “That’s just it, my dear miss! And you'll let me see it, won’t you?” “That you shall, nursie; and T am so glad to prove to you that it was really no ghost that T saw.that night.” i. “Tm not so sure of that!” murmured De- orah, | : : But Delia did not hear the old woman’s reé- mark; she had risen fo fetch the handkerchief. _ “Here it is,” said the young lady, return- ing. 3 Deborah seized the piece of cambric; her fin- gers trembled, and she eagerly searched for the mark in the curner. It was easily found—J. L., embroidered. Deborah continued to gaze on the letters so long, that, at length, Delia broke the silence with the remark she had made so lately. ““You see now, dear nurse, that it could not have been a ghost that I saw.” “‘Oh, Miss Delia!” exclaimed Deborah, get- ting up in great agitation. ‘‘Oh, Miss Delia!— it’s very awesome to my mind! You mind, J. L. were his initials—your brother James’s—him you never saw! And this may be for a token, who’s to tell?” ‘*My aear Deborah,” urged Delia, amazed at her old nurse’s credulity, ‘‘surely you wiil not let an accidental coincidence like this make you believe that there was any connection be- tween my poor brother, so long since dead, and the handkerchief found yesterday morning? Don’t you see that it must have belonged to somebody whose names begin with the letters J. L.? And who ever heard of a ghost carrying about a cambric handkerchief, very nicely marked, certainly ?” ’ “Don’t joke, Miss Delia. I know it does seem ridiculous to you; but stillit may be for a to- ken!” ; , “Give me a kiss and go to bed, dear nurse,” said Delia. « hier And Deborah sighed, and left the young lady to repose. i? When she was quite alone, when her maid had closed the door for the night, and tne wind, roaring without, only made the coutrast to her cosey room more pleasant, Delia drew aside her curtains, and took a long look from the win- Ow. ! She smiled at herself as she did so: but in the moonlight, which -now reigned supreme, no figure in a slouched. hat was Visible. | .. ° ~“T must have been mistaken! Only how did the hanakerchief get there?” pel ac With this careless question she dismissed the inquiry, and sunk to rest with thoughts of Lind- say. € CHAPTER IIL. ( THE SECOND TAP AT THE WINDOW. . Dusk is creeping again next afternoon over the silent world, and once more Delia sits in the tondsome library at the Abbey, learning her part in the play. Many joyous hours have intervened since this time yesterday; many a tender glance and word from Lindsay have penetrated the young girl’s heart. rapa ae i L, : More than ever is she assured that he loves er, - Yes, assured ; such tones, such softly-breath- ed werds, could have but one meaning. No trouble of heart mingles with this blissful an but she half murmurs to herself: ‘‘ W shall be as bappy as Fay and Reggy.” big The proposed rehearsal bad been postponed for a day or two, as Delia is obliged to confess “that she is afraid she is not perfect in her part. “Vil shut you up till you do learn it, D.,” says Reginald, laughingly. elia, repentant, promises everything. _And now she sits, as dusk is falling, in the library, occupied in the same.way as about this hour yeterday. a It is a little earlier, itis true,.and the gloom without is weird and melancholy. Do her thoughts wander from the page before ve - the tap which came so lately to the win- ow Uneonsciously, perhaps: for when a footman enters to sbut out the night, Delia looks A and desires him to leave one shutter unfastened. He wonders why, but obeys. She has succeeded in committing two pages of her part to memory, and bas forgotten the interruption which troubled her . yesterday, when, all at once, when most unexpected, the tap at the window is repeated. An imperative, and yet an uncertain sum- mons; avd Delia, haif-frightened, glances at the Wapsons sg ea “abs ut from her seat she can distinguish nothing. The blackness of night reigns vital ma more intense by the brightness within. “Tt is absurd to let such a small thing inter- rupt me, thought Delia, going on with her task, when “Tap, tap, tap!” sounded with sol- emn distinctness on the window-pane. ° ‘Lawill discover the cause,” thought she; and noiselessly left her cosey'seat by the fire, and stationed herself close to the casement. There she stood, listening for the expected sound. And. it returned, ‘‘ Rap, rap!” against the window. e@ was
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4A By one swift movement, Delia appeared sud- denly close to the glass, but started back with a smothered exclamation; for there, unmistak- ably, was the same figure she had seen on Christmas Eve, amid the snow! It did not now retreat into the darkness, but pressed close to the casement, making a mute appeal. Despairseemed impressed on its whole bearing, and this mingling of entreaty and de- spair chained Delia to the spot immovable. It was but a brief moment which passed thus; then, as she would have fled away to summon Reginald, the figure held up to view a large let- ter, deposited it outside the casement, and van- ished from sight. The curiosity of Delia was excited to the highest pitch. By natureshe was brave rather than timid, and the mystery of the affair alto- gether urged her to see what the letter con- tained. The figure had vanished into the darkness, but the white envelope was distinct enough against the glass, The window opened easily from within, &hough it was secure from entrance without. Delia put up her small white hand, slipped the bolt, and in one short instant—almost before she had time to feel the keen rush of cold air— bet picked up the envelope and closed the glass oor. How strange an adventure? Would Reggy say sho had better not have taken in the letter? She must get hold of him before dinner, and they would talk it ov-r together. ey girl hurried to her seat by the fire, and broke the seal, noting, as she did so that the wit was bold and firm, and that the letter was a to herself. One short moment more, and, pale and elianged, she. hur- ried to her room to read it alone. An she fled, she felt as if haunted by a n, an unreality which clung to her. pe i , qj binicing Feith couch m Pua dressin rai a e unfo “the paper. an, ‘ ear Delia,” and snatinget t thus: x f “Let me entreat you to peruse this letter alone. and to carry your thoughts back to the fact tha e was @ time when a-brother you never knew sed you—an unconscious baby of a year old—and left his old home to battle with life in a foreign land. Delia, my almost unknown sister, Jam that brother, so long supposed to have died among the prairies 0 North America, ‘The world believes me dead; and, ES font it must k so—I dare not undeceive it. © will keep this secret between us; for why should i burden my young and happy brother with the Anowledge of existence? “‘Ah, no! I willleave to you and to him my wide inheritance, contend to live in obscurity, live broken-hearted, as I have merited. “‘ And why.do I deserve this fate? Because—(to must tell the undisguised truth, Delia)—be- causel have forfeited my position in the world; L Jhave placed myself, in a moment of wild frenzy, -within reach of the law, and to proclaim my exist- ence would be to set the officers of justice after me. “You areso young that my childhood was passed re you were born. us you know nothing of my father’s severity, norof my own hot temperament. 1 was born with this unhappy osition, Delia, and circumstances made it worse, IT fell among wild companions, who led me into debt. No wonder my as <a angry, aod ye ears of college life ell hea’ enough upon him. I gave wine-parties; botteds aeablads I ordered e ive luxuries with- out consideration of their cost. My fatherwas not then so wealthy as he became afterward; but an fortune would have been oe ik at the rate was living. But he paid my debts, and received m solemn assurance of amendment. And, Delia meant to keep faith with him; but was so easily led astray—fool that I was! hy prolong the story? It wil! be enough if you are told the result of my mad conduct. Aftera year’s misery, my father ed the truth—that I was heavily in debt as before. Can you wonder that. though he ener discharged myliabilities, he woul no longer believe my promises of reform? Delia, he was obliged to act as he did—for at that time the Abbey was under repair, and he did not then own Mount’s Castle, nor wasit certain that he would ever ‘become the owner of so je 4 a property. And so, as [had ruined my career in England, and spent a fortune, he proposed that I should go abroad for some years on a small fixed allowance, and try my abilities in America. “‘ was willing enough to go; it gave change and excitement. Can you credit, Delia, that before I Yanded I had gambled away all my ready money? “You were a year old when I started. I will not tell you the many — I got into; they were wild, but not un onable for the first few years. Lliked the keen air of the Rocky Mountains, the excitement of ‘the hunting - ons on the prairies. My father remitted my allow: ear - nce of three hundred a Jarly; but you will understand that three hundred a syear was nothing to a man who had spent three thou- wee ior sig was always indebt. I bled “Well, OL CO’ 5 ebt. m and was often successful; 1 speculated in asthe, and xeaped some profit—all at haphazard. . “One day, when I had been nine years in the far she could laugh w HAUNTED HEARTS. West (my father had assured me that he could with difficulty retrieve his position in a dozen Prine so much had my extravagance impoverished him), I joined another man in a hunting expedition. His surname happened to be the same as my own— Larch. He was a saving fellow, crafty and business- like—very different tome. Isaw that if I could join him ina speculation, I should make money rapidly. The only thing was, Thad not the sum necessary pay down. , “To be brief over this painful part of my story, Delia, I forged a check on a fellow I knew, inbending to pay the money back. The latter and myself hac been close friends; but when he discovered the cheat Lhad practiced on him, his anger knew no bounds. He pursued me into the prairie—I believing myself secure. “Well, it so chanced that the poor fellow I had started with was bitten by a rattlesnake, and as we had not brandy enough to dose him with, he died ina few hours. ‘Two or three others were with us—hired men. Ihad hired them; but they knew nothing of me. “Tn my wild career I had done a kind action now and then, when the fancy took me; and I had la saved a man from, disgrace-by payment of a sma sum. It was he who found me just in time to warn me of aid former friend’s pursuing vengeance. In a twinkling I had.arranged escape, I abandoned the hunting expedition, settled with the fellows I had hired, telling them that as poor Larch was dead, I had no heart to go on—knowing well that: they) would meet ursuer and tell.their tale, ‘“And so he believed me dead... But he had his re- venge, though unconscious of. it; for he knew all about my connections in England, knew evel concerning me, and would have rejoiced to expose me had I been alive. He would do so nowif hecould. trace me; and he is a middle-aged:man, well and prosperous, Now do yousee, Delia, why I have been silent, during the eight years» which have elapsed since this happened? No, notquite yet; for you can never understand the deep horror I felt when I con- sidered of what I had been guilty. Iwas a forger, and judged myself sawrigh psd of inheriting my father’s name and place. I said to myself, ‘Let my brother take my position. The world supposes me dead; let me accept that as true. My family shall feel no more ace from me,’ But still-another motive kept me silent, Delia. That very night, when I thus managed to spread a report of my own death, inseeking to evade a fellow who knew me, and to whom I owed money—that very night I got into a quarrel with him, and—in self- defense, I solemnly assure you, Delia—stabbed him; not so deeply as to cause his death, I hope devoutly, I think, [believe not; but of this Lam uncertain. “*T fled; changed my name; took to farming, and prospered foratime. And I meant—I solemnly as- sure you this, my sister—I meant to die silently, nor ever to burden you—oh, you, least.of all!l—with the secret of my eciipener: ‘But a time came when I fell ill—very ill; and when I recovered, | had to recognize the fact that I must live with impaired health henceforward. The ae who employed me were always asking if I no friends in England who would helpme. And then I thought that, in return for the eritance I willingly forfeit (have I not) said how unworthy I judge myself to possess it?), you would secure to me some fixed and modest. pittance out of the thousands you possess. Five hundreda year would make me not only independent, but give me comforts in my de- clining years. Iam forty now, and feel that I shall not long be a burden to you. ‘*But lamin sore wantof every necessary. I have borrowed for my passage to England. Can you at once let me have a hundred pounds, Delia? “JT cannot think that you will refuse, for that would be to let me die of starvation, or else to goad me into declaring my identity—in which case the law would lay hold of me; or there is still a last way of escape for those who have neither money nor friends—viz., to destroy myself. Shallit be so, Delia, or will you come to my rescue, like an angel of mercy? “Tf you will be such to me, give me your answer to-morrow evening at dusk, outside the library win dow I know so well. Your despairing brother, “James LarcH.”* The letter fell from the hands of the fainting Delia, It was well that she was quite alone, that no one came to intrude on her solitude just then, or her secret must have been known—the dreadful secret which was none of her mak- ing. Atter a time, she roused herself suddenly. A sort of desperation seized the girl. It seemed to her that if she did not keep up the ap - ance that all was well with her just now, Regi. nald’s happiness must be forfeited forever, But if she could be strong, just for a little while; if e her very soul was rent with a thousand agonies; if she could be brave enough to utter a few gay words, and go out and in among them all—then, it seemed to her, that out of the frightful wreck of her own hap- i. she might save Reggy’s. He could be appy with Fay—he who would wed her in in- nocent ignorance of the blot on the honor of their name; but she herself could accept the hand of no honorable man—she who was now aware that she had a dishonored brother. Was he worse even than dishonored? Had he taken a man’s life? Not with premeditation, perhaps, but in hot anger, through wrong-doing? Oh, as horrible! Was it for the sister of such a man wed Lindsay Deane? Never! never! It would break her heart to a Fg the word which would separate her from Lindsay; but honor, good faith to him she loved so well, bound her by every tie tu do so. After that she could leave the Abbey; could die quietly in some soli- tude abroad, and people would only say that she had fallen into ill health. “Oh!” she cried, starting up as she thought this; ‘‘oh! can this dreadful thing be true?’ And all at once she said to 4 might not be true—she would not give entire credence to so wild a tale till she had proof of it. But yet, in her inmost soul, she felt it must be.true. It tallied with some things she had heard spoken of her elder brother. ‘Tales of his wild sy oa ir of their father being obliged to send him a road, had reached her, as well as the story of his death from the bite of a rattle- snake, But still she said to herself that she would demand further proofs, “Giddy and trembling, she remained in her own room till her maid came to dress her for dinner, and she descended to the large circle of guests below only at the last moment. Reginald met her with a reproachful inquiry as she entered, ‘‘ Where have you hidden your- self so long? And our play, when is that to er | wae t well, Re, dear,” she whispered ““T was not we ear,” she w and her troubled Hoke “Bace out her words. ‘*Some one else must take any Bar’ in the the- atricals. I should keep you all waiting too long forme. Hush! don’t make a fuss about it! Mrs. Ashley is moving to go down to dinner.” All through the evening which followed Delia felt in a strange, unreal Lindsay glanced at her with infinite concern. Where were her enchanting smiles, her lively talk—above all, that look of 'y mirthfulness that is so beautiful to. see? In place of all this, n, combined with high resolve, sat now on er bees features; and once or twice he caught oe sone of tears under her long lashes. hat #id it mean? Wasshe in any trouble? If that were so, how could her brother, Regi- naid Larch, be so gay and unconcerned? “Will you forgive me for asking if there is anything which has distressed asked Lindsay, in low tones, taking the vacant seat by her side. { ‘““What should trouble me, Lord Lindsay?” said she, lightly; as she turned away. But her lip quivered as she spoke, and her as- stirred a tumult of unrest in his heart, as she gan to turn over some photographs on a table near, without even seeing them, so greatly had her sorrow absorbed ber, _A little later in the evening, feeling it impos- sible to bear up any longer, she slipped away from the gay group in the saloon, and reached her own chamber. But she did not stay there long; she Bg out of it again, and down a long corridor, a a swing door, which shut off rooms which had once formed the nursery suit of rooms at the Abbey. Old Deborah still occupied two of them, and here Delia could.be pretty sure of finding her at this hour on.a winter evening. ‘Eh, dear! is it you, Miss Delia?’ cried De- borah, as the young girl entered. ‘‘I am hon- ored to see you here when all the gay visitors want you down below.” ‘*T am not well to-night, dear nurse; and have come for a little talk with you.” ‘““-Youw’re more than welconie, dear Miss Delia. Is there anything now that I can do for you?” “Yes; talk to me about my: brother James who went abroad, and died there. You remem- ber him well, don’t you?” “TJ nursed him as a Laby; ’tisn’t like as 7 should forget him, Miss Delia. He was tall and broad-shouldered—a fine-looking gentleman when he left us all. Ah, dear! money’s the root of all evil, and it was on account of that he had to go, my dear.” ** How so, nurse? Do you mean that he spent toomuch? Ihave nerd’ aunt Mary say that he did. But I don’t exactly understand why he had to stay so long away.” “Poor Mr. James was extravagant—awfal extravagant; and got so much in debt that for a time he nearly ruined your poor ee He had to put down his carriages and sell his horses, and it was a great grief to your dear mamma. She died three years after Mr. James went to America, Miss Delia, and so was spared the sorrow of hearin’ about his death out alone in the far wilds. Ah, peer Mr. James! The news of his death didn’t reach the Abbey for months after it took place; but, naturally, when he didn’t write to acknowledge the money your papa sent him, and no letters came for so erself that it. existence. Lord. ‘ ou to-night?” .
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<_—._.... _— - on: tee ae HAUNTED HEARTS. long, then inquiry was made, and that was how our poor papa found out that, without a doubt, e’d died hunting on the prairies. He’d spoken in his last letter about this hunting expedition, and said about how long he’d meant to be gone afore he went back to any town, and mentioned a person he knew well. And so, through that letter, master traced what had happened. An’ *twas put in all the papers how that Mr. James had died from the bite of a snake—a rattle- snake ’twas that killed him.” Delia’s heart beat painfully. Everything De- borah said agreed with the fatal letter which had reached her in so mysterious a manner, and which bad uprooted all shes innocent joy. __ She did not ask many more questions, but sat ‘with her head on Deborah’s lap as she had so often done when a little child. She seemed frozen with horror at the dreadful knowledge which had come to her. When she arose.to say good-night, Deborah was alarmed ‘at the sorrow on her face. “I mustn’t talk about poor Mr. James again, “my dear Miss Delia, that’s plain. It has made you ill, I.declare!”. ~—: When Delia reached her own room, she made - baste te shroud her despair in. darkness. and si- fence. But she could not sleep; and when all the farge household was at rest, she arose, light- ed her candles, aud sat down to her writing-ta- ble, as the clock boomed three. CHAPTER IV. THE UNKNOWN BROTHER. WHAT was she writing there? Her unsteady fingers could hardly trace the words, but she had decided what must be done, and she did it, _“Tfit be really so,” she wrote—‘“if you are actu- ally my brother, I will not refuse to do ‘a ‘sister’s part, even though we are strangers, and must re- Mainso. -Give me proofs of what you advance, and when I.come of age, and have money in my own control, a thousand a year shall be secured fo you for life. More should be yours if I could give it, and still avoid the discovery you dread. To me wealth is all but useless, for I shall pass the re.rainder of my lifein solitude if you can satisfy me of the truth of. your identity with my supposed dead brotner, Till Il come of age, I can but divide with you my al- Jowance. “With this Tinclosefive pounds. Letme find your proofs to-morrow eveuing at the window where you a the letter I have from you, and you shall ave fifty pounds at onee. ° D. 1.” And with this effort the sweetness of life went . Out for the fair Delia, Lindsay loved her, and she was bound by her very love for him to re- ject his affection. . Lindsay loved her, and she would have to speak the words which would send him from her! ben morning dawned, of all that large household of which she was mistress, Delia alone arose with an aching heart, weak and ill with the shock she had. received, but yet re- solved to make an effort to join the party at breakfast, and she hoped to mak» the plea of headache account for her altered looks. And she was successful, save where Lord Lindsay was concerned; for what can deceive a lover’s eye? No headache could make the sweet face of his beloved one wear such a look of sadness; of that he was assured. And there was a moment after breakfast, as the group around the weill-spread board was dispersing, when she met Lindsay gpiance fixed on her with anxious affection. hat was it bro ight such an added touch of pain to her bro » as she turned away! “Shall you venture to walk to-day? Would not the air do you good?” said he, as he ob- served her about to leave the breakfast-room, “T taink not,” she answered, with assumed carelessness, ‘Not one turn in the grounds? Let me per- suade you to try the remedy, and honor me by taking me for your escort,” urged he. But Delia had done with that loved compan- jonship now. No more sauntering by his side, as she had done but two short mornings ago. Now all was changed for her, and she lived ina world with a black shadow over it, into which no man or woman must look. Let her, then, be Careful not to drag Lindsay Deane into it with her. She left him, then, with another courteous re- Sal, Bug again he pone ae a ui con- ‘cern the anguish she sou conceal. And so, Wile Revinald and Fay went off to- ether on horseback thissuony winter morning, which melted the last remnant of snow in the most sheltered places, Delia remained alone in her room, frozen, despairing. P Lindsay, as unhappy as herself, though in a different way, ed in and out of the house, counting the hours as they went by till he should again see Delia, At luncheon she did notappear. Mrs. Ashley said she was keeping quiet to be quite well by the evening. ould she be quite well by that time? thought Lindsay—the look of pain gone from that sweet brow, and the old careless se- renity reigning in its place? All the long day went. by for him without Delia. Reginald went to see her, and so did Fay and Mrs. Ashley; but she sent them all away, saying quiet was: all she wanted. They did not seem alarmed about her. ‘She would join them at dinner,” they said. And with that seemed satisfied. : In the afternoon, as dusk crept on, Delia left the shelter of her room, and went softly down the wide staircase. .She could hear the click of billiard balls. That was well. The gentlemen ‘were doubtless in the billiard-room, the ladies in the saloon, She should, then, find the library untenanted, and be able to deposit her letter outside the window. ; Yes; her conjecture was correct. The lofty apartment was glowing with firelight, and a single taper burned on a distant table, but no one was there. With rapid. step she crossed the room, un- fastened the shutter, unclosed the window, and shaking from head to foot, gave her letter to the mercy of the night, winds. Was it carried away? Was he, the unknown brother, watching for it in the darkness? Sup- pose that other hands than his found that. let- ter! She had shut the casement, but remained watching—watching. Not for long, though. .A st moved on the other side of the long glass door, stooped, rose up again, and was gone—the figure of a man in a slouch hat. Delia shuddered, and. essayed to close. the shutter she had unbarred. But that was too much for her feeble strength now that she was trembling, with dread an fear. Again and again she made the effort, however, for she did not wish to be asked to ac- count for having unfastened the shutter. In her haste she let slip the heavy bar; the noise made by this prevented her hearing the opening of the door; and she started with sur- prise and apprehension as Lord Lindsay’s voice addressed her: “*Let me close that shutter for you, pray, Miss Larch! How pleased I am to see you!—to have the hope of your qoining us this everne. I lit- tle thought to find you when I came in here.” He had spoken with the glad surprise he felt at this unexpected rencontre with his beloved, and his joy gave place to uneasy astonishment as he observed how disconcerted she was at his presence. Why did she tremble? Why did she shrink from him? She looked as if she, had been star- ee interrupted in something she would fain ide. But he quickly told himself that all she did was fair and good, and could not be otherwise. ‘““Were you looking out at the night?’ con- tinued he, smiling down upon her. ‘‘Shall I open the window for you again?” “No, no!” cried she, quic ly, shrinking back, and her voice full of fear. ‘I mean,” she add- ed, striving to resume her ordinary manner ane tone, ‘that I won’t go on looking at the sky. “Did you see the sunset?” asked he, coming close to her side, hoping to detain her if but a few moments. It was_so sweet to him to be thus alone with her. Oh, that he dared feel that this was the propitious moment to tell her of his love! ‘ “The sunset?’ said she, “Surely there was no sunset to notice to-night?” ‘ “Yes, such a remarkable one. Miss Earle meant to make you look at the sky.” “Ah, yes—I remember now!” exclaimed Delia, hastily and confusedly, with the air of one who strives to recall a forgotten. circum- stance. I truth, the trouble pressing upon her had chased small occurrences away. Lord Lindsay could not help saying, to him- self, ‘‘ What is it that absorbs her, and why was yer so troubled at my appearance just now But the affection he had for her overpowered those minor questionings, and he said, in a tone low and lover-like,‘‘ I had so looked forward to to-day—to the happiness of spending some of it with you! And it has been so long, for, I have counted the hours as they went by, because toe. society was denied me! Are you ray tter now? Were you going to rest here dinner-time?” A Pg “T—I wandered down here for a little change,” stammered she. ‘‘1 will go and find Fay. But I will not. talk much now, or I shall. be stupid instead of agreeable this evening.” ‘Never aught but agreeable to me /” breathed he, softly. ; And he had already imprisoned her fingers in his own—how unnaturally cold they were!— when the sound, of voices, the penne the door, the entrance of Mrs, Ashley and Fay, in- terrupted him. mig “‘ Since I dare not accept the love I feel that he would offer if I permitted him, let me avoid the dreadful pain of having to reject him in.so many words,” thought the unhappy girl. ‘I will spare him the mortification; 1 will spare myself the task which would be too great for me; I willavoid him, and he will understand. It is but for a few days more!” Several times that evening, as Lord Lindsay sat by her side, did he detect the large tears well to her eyes—tears which she forced back. Once, indeed, the effort was too great for her; she had to rise hurriedly on some pretense to conceal the telltale anguish in her face. But a moment after she turned, and faced the assembled party with some gay remark;/and no one detected her sorrow but he who watched her so lovingly. 7 “She is grieving about so ething—something she is trying to conceal! Oh, that she would let me share-her unhappiness, and take all her cares upon me!” And then it was natural that he should ask himself what secret cause of trouble she could have. She, the heiress of Larch Abbey, with the whole world at ber feet! Who teeeecen her without deference or affection? No one. Mrs, Ashley petted, her brother adored ber; all the good gifts of life were hers! But to Lindsay Deane it was but too patent that there was a secret sorrow cankering her life, and what it might be, deeply concerned him ‘to dis- cover, But Delia gave him no chance of that. She was surrounded by a laughing group all the evening, and the next morning drove out with Mrs. Ashley; while, after luncheon, she disap- peared altogether, “Where were those happy moments, once so frequent, when his love for her was dawning in sweetest hope?’ When she would linger willing- ly by his side, and shyly respond with smiles? Gone! Gone, almost as if they had never exist- ed, save for the pained constraint she evidently experienced now, and the pang of sorrowful re- gret with which he remembered them. Would phox pean no more, or could they be wooed ack? That was what he asked himself with infinite solicitude as he walked about the grounds, rest- less and moody, in the afternoon. And Delia? If Lindsay’s unrest was sore, how much more so was hers! The hours which rolled away, bringing the dusk, were to bring also the proofs of her eldest brother’s existenc: and in so doing give her the indirect evidence o his guilt—his unworthiness! Suppose, too, the library should be tenanted, as was often the case toward evening? How should she possess herself of the letter which would, doubtless, be awaiting her outside the window? This was an added subject of anxiety. _ AS soon as darkness came creeping over the January sky, she left her room, (in which she had remained the whole afternoon), and sought the library. But she had hardly entered it, when she became aware that Lor ent her brother Reginald, and one or two people be- sides, were chatting round the fire. ae Immediately she retired; without being ob- served, as she imagined. But Lord Lindsay had seen her, and instantly followed into the hall, in the hope of exchanging one precious sentence with her; of getting some word, how- ever scant, from her dear lips. She did not perceive that be had followed her, and what was his surprise at seeing her go’ to the entrance hall, open the door (which wasonly locked), and pass out into the cold air! Uncertain what to do, not daring to follow her, he stood irresolute; and, as he hesitated, asking himself what it meant, Delia returned. shivering, and as if suffering from sup ressed excitement. It was 0, a 63 ‘oy Spee er there. But she strove to speak lightly. “When cne has a stupid headache, a dobar ae - =
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£ ‘‘But perhaps it was unwise to go without any wrap, and so late,” continued she, ‘ How- ever, it is but just five o’clock.” “Will you forgive me,” said Lindsay, ap- roaching her, and speaking with infinite affec- ion in his voice, infinite tenderness looking out of his eyes-—‘‘ will you forgive me if Lask to know what it is which troubles you—and—to share it?” The avowal of the devotion he felt for her trembled on his lips; he longed to tell her that he was there thenceforth to take all her cares on himself, when she prevented his further speech. - “You are not to assume that I have troubles, Lord Lindsay, and { must not stay shivering here, or I shall soon have an undeniable trouble in the shape of a cold.” And she left him standing there, and ran up- stairs. Left him with unspeakable anxiety and pain in his heart. Delia carried with her even a deeper grief than his. She had rushed round at all bazards to the library window, and there had found the letter sbe sought. That was the weight she car- ried, and with it misery without end in this life. She burst into uncontrollable tears when in the retirementof her own room; and as soon as she could still them, took out the fatal letter, or rather the packet, for such it was. Bending down before the bright fire blazing in the polished grate, her shaking fingers sepa- rated the many letters in the parcel. What were they? Oh, she discerned, easily! Full well she recoguized the handwriting of a dear old aunt, now abroad for the winter. Here were many of her letters, sent years since, to her nephew James in America. She had always corresponded with him, and would remember him well. Here was proof, indeed! But the letter from her outcast’ brother con- tained many proofs, for in it he alluded to much that it was impossible for any stranger to have known. And there were ‘letters from her father and his—Delia knew the writing well. Could she cherish a doubt any longer? Alas! she knew now that she could not. The letter from her brother himself was as follows: “Tf these inclosures are not eonclusive proof, what other can Ioffer you? But can you doubt that Iam indeed your brother, Delia?—erring, indeed, but suf- fering and repentant, and still your brother! **See me but once—I have no right to petition for more than one interview; and we can then arrange a way in which you may transmit to me money for my pressing wants. You must see that it is impos- sible we can correspond in this way. Any one may find our letters, or may see you or me at the library window, and then all sorts of surmises might arise, uupleasant to yourself. Let.me persuade you, then, to t me one interview—itis your own brother who implores it. To-morrow I will be in the deer- shed in the park, in the hope that you will come to me there, and in a few moments will do more toward arra) future matters than could many letters. I will be in the deer shed at eleven o'clock. “Oh, Delia! do not fail your wretched brother! And do one thing before you_come to settle your last doubt as to my identity. There must surely be several of my letters to my father stillin existence. Compare these with the writing in this note to you, and you will find the similarity, even though a bro- ken wrist has disabled me from entirely preserving the firm hand I once wrote. “ Your troubled and makepay brother, ‘James Larcy,” The last hope was over for Delia. Kneeling there in the firelight, with ever luxury surrounding her, she felt the cold chill of actual despair. “He has slain a man, perhaps! And is a forger!” she went on, murmuring to herself; ‘*and I—I am his own sister! What rizht have such as I to the love of Lindsay Deane?” Overwhelmed with grief, she knelt on, for- getting all the passing events of the hour. Her maid’s summons at the door first roused re “I knocked ten minutes ago, miss, but you did not hear; but it’s just within a quarter of an hour of dinner, and I was afraid there would be no time to dress you.” Delia sat passive as her maid rearranged her That individual, after a short cough or two, ventured a remark, “‘There’s been great excitement in the ser- vants’ hall to-night, miss; and I’ve made bold to tell oe De pi nese ct Y ce was found, miss, an e figure you thought you saw on Christmas Eve.” 3 of Delia telt a chil) run through her, “What of that?” she asked, faintly. ‘Why, miss, the under footman, Jol.n was going round with a message to the stables just a> | > — Tas HAUNTED HEARTS. after dusk, and he’d nearly reached the bac court, when all at once he saw a tall figure, as black as night, in a sort of wide-awake hat, glaring on him with a wild stare. John was that terrified, he’d no heart to seize him; and now some of the servants say tis a ghost, miss, and that twas well John left him alone.” Delia could speak no word in reply. Her color came and went painfully. ‘‘T’d no intention to frighten you, miss,” said the maid, noticing her young lady’s agitation. “‘Does John believe it was a ghost he saw?” asked Delia, faintly. ‘*’m not sure, miss,” replied the maid. Delia never knew how she got through that dreadful evening. If she had been hesitat- ing. about meeting her elder brother, this talk with the maid would have decided her to consent to the interview. He must not hover about the Abbey, and run the risk of detection. For what might not follow on detection? Trial for forgery! trial for a far worse crime! The thought was agonizing to dwell on! When the morning dawned Delia had lived through ages of misery. She had resolved to see her brother, to give him all the money she had by her, and to show him the necessity of fixing his residence far from his old home. During breakfast she could barely respond to the remarks addressed to her; but she felt con- strained to join the family circle at the morning meal, otherwise, if she pleaded iliness and yet was seen leaving the house for a walk so early as some time before eleven o’clock, it would naturally awaken comment. Reginald and Fay, both extremely happy, were arranging plans for the day; Mrs. Ashle reading her many letters; the rest of the visi- tors engaged in breakfast. newspapers and con- versation, when Delia left the room for the dreaded interview in the deer-sbed. No one observed ber quiet departure save Lord Lindsay; he was watching her with loy- ing and despairing eyes. CHAPTER V. THE INTERVIEW. Sum had put on a fur cloak and hat, and car- ried the fifty pounds she was to give her out- cast brother. Todo this she would have to go well-nigh penuiless for the next three months; for, not being of age, she had as yet only her al- lowance of three hundred a year for dress and charities, her brother (on the decease of ber late rdian) managing for her the funds of the rch Abbey estate. But Delia thought nothing of the money; even the dread of meeting her unknown and outcast relative was swallowed up in the ab- sorbing desire that no one should see whither she went this morning. Breathless and terrified, she passed down the sunny carriage drive, then made a eurve out of sight of the house to enter the park. But this was a round which would consume at least thirty minutes, and it was now turned balf-past D. In her alarmed state, eager to get the inter- view over, she left the broad drive, in order to walk across the thick, wet grass, which was so laden with moisture as to be nearly as watery as @ river, Delia hesitated one instant, then struck across the greensward. A voice behind arrested her progress. ‘* Miss Larch, let me beg of you not to risk a cold. The grass bas never been dry for the last two months ” It was Lord Lindsay who spoke, and now stood beside her He was unprepared for the look of dismay—nay, more than that, the ter- ror she betrayed. She grew pale; trembled visibly: essayed to speak, and could not pronounce a word. At last, forcing a smile, which nearly wrench- ed his heart in twain, she stammered out: _ ‘1 do not mind wet grass. I could not live in the country without crossing it every day.” ‘But such grass!” persisted he. ‘‘ You must have wet feet already, no matter how thick your boots.” ** Whoever heard of wet boots being hurtful while one is walking?” exclaimed Delia, with difficulty repressing a shiver of cold and pain. “Tt is standing about in them which is danger ous, so I will go on quickly. Good-by for the apy Lord Lindsay. Iam bound for a long walk. _ In truth, she hardly knew what she was say- ing. % If you are resolved to go on, let me at least have the—the happinesso* accompanying you?” he, persuasively, adoringly. “Certainly not,” replied Delia, in Seyi “‘T shall never get back if [ stay talking here, Once more, good-by, Lord Lindsay.” And she walked on quickly. “Stay !” he iinplored. “Miss Larch—Delia— spare me a few moments. You cannot guess how I have looked for a chance such as this—a few moments—to tell you something of which my heart is full.” ‘*) can stay for nothing ~ow,” she faltered, with a wretched attempt to speak lightly. to seem at ease. ‘See! I am shivering; that is be- cause I am standing in damp boots. So, now I am off, and forbid you to follow me.” And she left him, without looking back. Lindsay Deane stirred not. What could she mean? Why did she persist in leaving him? Why was she in such a tremor at meeting him there? And what madness led her to wade through the sopping grass, rank and thick enough to make any one avoid it? She had forbidden bim to follow, but he lin- gered still where she had left him, regardless of the cold. E Slowly, and with misery at heart, coupled with a vague uneasiness, he regained the plea- sure-grounds, and then stood still again. Suddenly, with a gesture of despair, he went out into ‘the high road which skirted the time and began to walk at a rapid pace. nd as he went, his eyes turned restlessly in the direction of the park where Delia hao Jett him. All at once he caught sight of her again—at a good distance off, it is true; but he could plain- ly distinguish that it was she, and tbat she was hurrying along in a dip of the ground, quite off the path, where, at this season, the saturated grass must make walking a penance, i amazement he checked his pace and watch- ed her. She went on swiftly in a straight course; then, abruptly turning at right angles, made for the deer-shed. And tow we will go back to Delia herself, whose excitement had become so great that she entered the rough sbed as pale as a ghost, and could not control her sobs, while she shook trom head to foot. Her startled glance around met no one; but she had barely time to lean for support against the door, when a figure came slowly into view from the dim recesses of the shed. A tall, well-made, muscular man, about forty pears of age, broad-shouldered and dark, who ad been handsome, but who now looked worn and tired—in alj things answering the descrip- tion of her elder brother. ‘* Delia!” said he, in a hollow voice, approach- ing her. e did not put out his hand; he was sad, and his large, mournful eyes seemed to express, “Though | am your brother, I am ica to clasp your band.” Delia’s sobs became, for a moment, uncon- trollable. “Hush, my sister!” he breathed, softly. ‘For one moment let me call you so. Are we not to part forever again after this interview? Let me, then, ask you a few questions in this only chance which I can ever bope for of learn- ing some things my beart yearns to know,” “Take this first!” were the words which broke from the agonized Delia. ‘‘There are fitty pounds. I shall be unable to let you bave any more for three months; but then 1 wil) send you seventy.” ‘Oh, Delia! how good you are! You have saved me from despair!” said be, as be received the money. spe made a strong effort at self-control, and added: sf ‘““We may be interrupted; so we must settle first the most necessary things. You must de- cide on an address where remittaices may reach you, and you must leave this neiglbor- heod, The servants have seen you already. Happily, Deborah is credulous, and has a fixed. idea that your spirit haunts the Abbey; but that will not save you from ultimate discovery, You must leave the plac: at once.” “Yes, yes: you are right, Delia!” be return- ed, mournfully. “And see—I have writien bere my assumed name—‘ Robert Roberts ’— and the address of my present lodgings in tha next village, But I have resolved to go to Lon- don, where I can best hide myself, and my woes andsins. Take this paper, my poor sister, and never, never may you know a suspicion of the agony which tears my soul as [ stand here, an outesst, seeing my old dear home in the dis- tance, which I dare never reénter; seeing you, my only sister, close to me, faee to face, after. such an absence, and yet not daring to give you one embrace,”
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— ~ ~*~ ae ie ee ee Delia wept anew; but she did not respond to the affection his words implied. ; She could feel nothing but terror and pity for this strangor-brother, whom she had never met before, and who had wrought them all so much w oe. ‘- Will you not take this paper with my ad- dress, Delux?” asked he, presently. She put out her hand; and, as their fingers met, she involuntarily shuddered. ‘“ Ah!” he exclaimed. ‘It is well we should not meet again; for itistoo much for me, Delia, to witness your aversion. I have deserved it. fam far from denying that. But there are things ver p to bear, even thoagh well de- served. You will pass your life in ease, sur- rounded by friends and all that makes life bright, in the dear home from which I am ban- ished. You are so well guarded from sorrow, that you can realize buta faint idea of what my lot is, aud must be.” ‘Stay !” cried Delia, roused by the misery she was called to bear in silence through his reck- less wrong doing. ‘Perhaps uo one can do wrong without putting another tu pain. I would not reproach you. I do recognize the misery of your lot; but have J nothing to bear? Did I not tell you that I should live in solitude if you proved your tale? Is it nothing, that I should have to renounce a happy love—a life with nothing to conceal? I love some one bet- ter than my life, and have made him wretched as myself. I renounce his affection. I shall live in continual sorrow, because I dare not let im marry me. How could I do so, now that our naine is dishonored?) And 1 must. bear this sorrow in silence, and never speak of it. Is all this nothing?” ‘Oh, Delia,” he cried, “‘ you must not do this — The world believes me dead. Have I not been buried virtually for eight years past? You must not do this thing!” ‘Tt is done,” she answered, more calmly. * But I have risked much in coming here—very much. fan me anything you wish, as quickly as ie. ~ ‘Teil me, then, of the old place!” he cried. “Does my father’s portrait still hang in the came room as. sia ia pn hana Is it in the rary, opposi e fireplace Delia peddle assent. * And does his favorite chair still stand by the old writing-table he had there?” “* Yes,” she said, faintly. ** And the look of the rooms—has new furni- ture altered their aspect, or are they the same? Oh, Delia, is there no way in which I might gain one fast look at the dear old place? Let me cross its sacred threshold once more.” ‘You ask what is beyond my power, beyond my strength,” she murmured. ‘My heart hungers to see it again,” he said, pleadingly. ‘‘Think of some way, Delia, by which I may gain one fleeting sight of my own old home before [ exile myself from it forever.” “Tt must be at your own risk, then,” faltered Delia, ‘‘Ob, think of your life, which you bee imperil if discovered, and do not ‘ask is “Your exiled brother implores it—it is a last prayer!” urged he. : Poor Delia, reproaching herself for hardness of heart, faltered out that she could devise no plan unless she admitted him for a brief mo- ment to the library while some amateur theat- ricals were going on. “‘ And now I must leave you,” said she; ‘and this interview cannot be repeated. It shakes me too much to have to contrive how to hide my actions.” ‘Good-by, then, my sister. May blessings follow you all through your life for the mercy you have shown to your brother!” **Good-by !” faltered she. And then she left him, and retook her way homewards, feeling that she was indeed forever separated from Lindsay Deane, CHAPTER VI. MISJUDGED. ALL through the long, damp went the unhappy girl, so early robbed of her youthful {oy by the hand of him who should have been er protector. On she went, a tempest of grief in her young soul, unconscious that Lindsay’s eyes were watching her movements. he meet her as she regained the Abbey gardens? For what reason could she have sought the deer-shed, wading through what was almost a river? ; “Has she some pet animal there, which she went to see?” was his next thought, as his eyes wandered to the distant shed. HAUNTED HEARTS. The next instant a dreadful chill seemed. to take the life out of his heart, as he observed the figure of a man slink out ot the rough shelter, and reach a slanting path which led him in an opposite direction to that pursued by Delia. Was this whe she betrayed such terror at meeting himself? Did she—oh, perish such a thought!—did she go to meet some secret, un- acknowledged lover? Who was the man he had seen? He was at such a distance from the spot where Lindsay stood that it was impossible to determine whether he were a workman or a gentleman. ‘* After all, I may be accusing Delia, my own beloved Delia, wrongfully! The man may bea keeper—that, dentktiees, must be the explana- tion! How could 1 torture myself and wrong my darling by such a suspicion as I harbo for a moment?” He drew a deep breath of relief; the sky which bad seemed black in his moment of de- spair once more assumed its natural hue, and his step grew lighter. ‘“‘Only why, why did she betray such evident agitation at meeting me? AmI anything or nothing to her, who is all the world to me?’ He would not venture to intercept Delia as- she regained the Abbey, but he watched her till the last flutter of her rove disappeared within the entrance. Never had two hours appeared to him so un- ending as those which intervened between mid- day and two o’clock. He longed to see Delia again—would she appear at luncheon? Yes, she camein with Fay. They were dis- cussing the projected theatrical performance which was to come off to-m.rrow evening. lay was to take the part once assigned to Delia, and both the girls were merry over it. Could she still laugh? Desperation makes us ready to assume oy disguise for our sorrow, and so Delia laughed. But as she sat opposite to Lord Lindsay, a swift pang smote his heart as he silently regarded her, there was such a pitiful expression of deep-seated pain on her young face as she relapsed for a few moments into silence. When the party rose from table, Lord Lindsay ventured to say to welia, aside, ‘‘ You did not take cold, I hope, \ nis morning?’ Delia answered, with a smile, ‘‘No; why should I? Fay, do come and tell Lord Lindsay that girls brought up in the country are not afraid to walk a littie way on the grass even in winter-time!” And then she drew Fay away with her, de- claring that there was still much to arrange for the theatricals, Lindsay was in despair. Must he leave the Abbey without declaring his love? Why, that was what he had chiefly come there for! His father and all his family were aware of | ridor leading to the his affection for the beautiful heiress of Larch Abbey, and would be beyond measure delighted if he succeeded in his suit. But success seemed as far off as ever from the | soon. | 7 Lord Lindsay was to know his fate still sooner thao be had counted on, and the end for the un- happy and iunocent Delia was to con.e eurlier than she ha! dreamed. “* Now I hope we shallall cover ourselves with applause,” said Reginald, as they rose from table. ‘* Fay, do you feel like royalty in your royal robes?” ay declured that she did, and that she should be most unwilling to descend tv ordinary life again amo.g ordinary mortals; and then went off in haste with her train of attendants. And now the rumble of wheels was heard, and the people invited for the performance be- gan to arrive. Delia stood by Mrs. Ashley’s side, and wel- comed them as they came in, and smiled at each one, and spoke a gay word, and showed her visitors where they should sit; and not one of them guessed that sh» earried a load of pain al- most too great for mortal to bear alone. At length ail toe expected guests had arrived; the actors were allready, the lamps were turned down to give a dim light—for the firstscene was to be enacted in semi-darkness—and Delia could slip away unobserved So, at least, she believed. Now was the mo- merit to admither brother James. There would be no other opportunity for that hurried look at his ol home for which he so earnestly im- plored. She went softly and swiftly to the library. the door of which stood open. fire burn dim in the grate, but gave plenty of light for her to open the window at waich she had first found the fatal letter. All were so occupied with the theatricals that no one would discover, in all probavility, either her own brief absence, or her brother’s se survey of the library. en the second act began she would return to the room and close the window. Yes; now was thetime! And with more con- fidence and calmness than she deemed possible, she went upon her errand. And Lord Lindsay, sitting there among the spectators, had likewise said to himself, ‘‘ Now is my time!” ith a heart. throbbin; dominating over hope, throng silently. For an instant he paused ere he pursued Delia —paused to recall a happier time, to give him courage to tell her of his love; a time when she willingly lingered by his side, instead of avoid- ing him; a time when he could not help noting that a sweet and timid happiness stole over her enchanting face at his presence. What had changed this? Well, he was to know that very painfully, fear pre- e, too, left the gay So he told bina thw he passed down the cor- brary. She entered. Could anything be more pro- pitious to bis wishes? ‘* At last, I shall find her alone; at last, she will not, she cannot refuse me a moment to tell young man. Nevertheless, he said to himself, her of my affection!” as he tried to bear his disappointment with a manly front, that he would certainly declare his devotion to her in plain words to-morrow even- ing; for then he would surely find a moment to breathe that devotion in ber ear, while the ama- teur performance was going on. Having formed which resolution, he tried to bring patience to | his aid for the hours which intervened. The whole afternoon was occupied with a re- hearsal, and servants were coming and going in all directions; for the ball-room at the Abbey, which opened into a room used as a breakfast- room, was on this occasion to do duty as a thea- ter, the numerous guests being seated as specta- tors in the smaller room. there a single moment when Areca n could find her alone. Sheappeared entirely ta the ape amusement; but Lord Lindsay said to himself, 4 mani} some grief under her light words and her smniles. The day wore on. Dinner was a full hour earlier than usual, to give time for the theatri- cals to commence at hailf-past eight. Fay, who was to figure as a Greek came down to dinner in costume, as di other ladies who were to take partin the acting; and there was much laughter and merry-making during the repast. But there were two who sat among the care- lessly merry party that evening whose hearts were torn with anxiety—Lindsay’s, who opined rincess, that this time to-morrow he would know his : and en up with | “Delia!” Her sweet name wason his lips, as, treading softly, he entered the dimly-ligkted room. But the word died away unspoken, and he stood breathless, speechless with immeasurable woe. She had unbarred the shutter and turned the handle of the glass door. ‘*‘Now—now!” he heard her say; and then a man appeared within the apartment. Lord Lindsay had not intended to act the | spy; he had only obeyed the impulse of his love | in Lindsay’s heart die Delia did not go out at all next day, nor was ' in pausing a moment ere he crossed the room, and astonishnient had done the rest. The little scene passed so rapidly, the heaven born hopes out so instantaneously and so cruelly, that he had not the power to move before he knew ail. All? No!—that he did not know. What his _ eyes assured him of was that Delia—his Delia, with a cruel pang, that she was | whom he had worshiped, before whom his heart had bowed down as before a divinity—was meeting some one in secret. That must mean that this unknown lover («ho but a lover could it be?) was unrecognized by her brother—pby her friends. She was then, doubtless, about to | make asecret marriage! He wasnothing to her also the ° any more! But he loved Delia too truly not to _ make an effort to save her. Stunned though he was b in and grief, he retired - oy, as ne had eee : but it was im ible for him to rejoi up he ad left. ; join the gay group Going to his room he rung for his servant, gave directions that his things should be fate; and Delia, who said to herself over and | packed, as he had to leave for home suddenly. over again, ‘Oh, that it were over] How shall I bear it to the end?” | ‘There is a traina little before eleven o’cl which we must. catch, Jones, @ to ge
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8 — HAUNTED HEARTS. me a trap to take me to the station without in- terrupting the rerformance.” “Yes, my lord,” returned Jones, grievously disappointed to be called away from the Abbey, where so much merrymaking was going on. Lindsay sat down and wrote two hasty notes to Mrs. Ashley and to Reginald Larch, making his excuses and his adieux, and expressing his regret at being suddenly called away—vwell knowing that they would each infer that he had proposed to Delia, and been rejected by her. And then he wrote a letter of another kind, to Delia herself. It was this: “Forgive this earnest warning—this urgent ap- peal from one who loves you as disinterestedly as éver man loved woman, “Delia! I think you have guessed my love, and ' once I dared to hope that I could have won you - for my own, And now, when that hope is gone, I Jappeal to you by that love, which is stronger than my life, to pause—if you can yet pause—in the course which must lead to misery; Think, Delia, whether any honorable man would come stealing into the house unwelcomed by your brother. an vee friends! Your own sense of right will tell you £ could not be! “Thad followed you to-night to the library with . the determination to tell you in words what you »must have divined long ago—that my heart was yours only, and forever; and then I saw that man whom you admitted. **Oh, Delia! has he bound you by some promise you fear to break? If so,let me take the place of an - elder brother; ‘and arrange matters for you, if they are capable of being arranged. Let this lover of ours come into the light of day; pover ti or a hum- ble position, are not insurmountable obstacles to true affection. ““You see I_plead no longer for myself; let that ' give 1% courage to honor me with your confidence and I will be your negotiator with your brother an with Mrs. Ashley, For you are not happy, Delia; let me then—now as a friend alone—let me strive to or- _ der things so that, you may become so. “T implore you to let me aid you, or else to con- fide in your brother, | Yours devotedly, ' “Tinpsay DEANE,” Such was the letter he left behind, and then he rose and summoned bis servant. As he de- scended the stairs bursts of laughter smote his bak The actors were receiving rounds of ap- plause, : _Delia jeanne against the doorway, caught sight of him as he passed through the hall; but made as though she observed-him not. __ And thus he left Larch Abbey, and the un- happy girl noted the noise of the wheels rolling from the door, and then dying away. _. CHAPTER VII. DELIA’S NEW GRIEF. THe guests were all gone; the applause was all over; the banquet which followed the theatricals had been crowded with guests, and ' Lord Lindsay’s absence was long unnoticed by any but Delia, And then Reginald’s regret at his friend’s sudden departure was freely ex- ressed; but Mrs. Ashley was silent about it, or she inferred that Delia’s rejection of his hand was the cause. But gayety and regrets were alike over for that evening; midnight had long since tolled, and Delia’s aching head and aching heart were in solitude, when there came a tap at her door. It was her maid, who reéntered with a note. “Oh, if you please, miss, Lord Lindsay de- sired this note to be given you to-night.” Delia’s pale face grew flushed with a rose tint as she received the letter. The door closed, she was again alone, and then she eagerly read Lindsay’s words, ‘ Let us not try to give an idea of the young ae trouble of heart. To be suspected by indsay of being in danger of making a secret marriage was almost too dreadful to be borne. She seized a pen, and wrote: “Larcu Appry, January —. “Dear Lorp LINDSAY: “T should be without feeling if I did not assure you in the most solemn manner that the danger you fear for me, and from which you would guard me, » does not exist. t “Let me thank you for your kind words, and at the same time express my sincere regret that you should ever have suffered any unhappiness on my ‘account; but as, unfortunately, this has been the case, we will not meet till we can do so on a merely friendly footing. Yours sincerely, ' “ DELIA mi? How cold the words, while her heart was glowing with love for him! And he suspected her, Delia Larch, of having a clandestine lover! Could Fate strike her a harder blow? She thought not; but she was mistaken. Fate and oi not fought out as yet their battle to- ether. : . When morning dawned she was wholly un- _ able to leave her bed; but that excited no com- ment, the lateness of the hour when she had re- tired after the theatricals being sufficient ex- cuse for her non-appearance at breakfast, — And there she lay, hopeless, doing nothing— caring to do nothing. Buteven for Delia there was something which demanded action, as sheremembered presently. Sbe must post her letter to Lord Lindsay her- self; and she rose, and went out into the village, without telling any one her errand. As she returned to the Abbey her misery seemed to press on her with new force; for Lindsay was gone, and though she was as much parted from himin reality yesterday as to-day, et it was sweet tosee him, and to know that © loved her. ...And now he would learn to despise her! How could he accept her poor assurance that what he believed was without foundation? She had offered no explanation, and could. offer none! One sole and only consolation was left her— ‘her great sacrifice had secured Reginald’s hap- piness.. Would time, as it rolled on, preserve this for her—this one last solace? h!, she thought that this at least would be granted to her saddened heart! And as she thought thus, she entered her own proud, keeping well out of view of the house y striking along a sequestered walk in the shrubbery, for she dreaded meeting visitors in her present mood, Their guests were to leave the Abbey this af- ternoon ; and it was. well, thought Delia, Reginald, too, was leaving soon on a visit to Sir | Crofton Earle, Fay’s uncle, who had adopted her, and with whom she lived. Reginald and Fay were to be married at Easter, which fell early this year, and the bride-elect had her trousseau. to order and her bridal to arrange. Thus, for a short time, Delia would be alone ‘with Mrs. Ashley; but they were both to go to London, soon, as Delia had not yet been pre- sented at Court. The chill winter wind was scarcely felt by Delia as she took her way through the shrub- bery, for the cold at her own heart overpowered every other sensation, She had paused a moment in her restless walk, when familiar tones struck her ear—those of her brother Reginald, His back was toward Delia, and he stood in the most secluded nook of this retired part of the grounds, while—could she believe her senses?—he was completely absorbed in conver- sation with a very young girl (sbe looked barely fifteen), whose hand he was holding in his own. Transfixed, Delia remained irresolute. Regi- nald—Reginald who was engaged to Fay—to be conversing with this village girl in secret! But perhaps he could explain this meeting, only it did appear so like a secret one out. here, where he so rarely came. Fay, too, was to leave the Abbey to-day, and usually he grudged every moment passed away from her; and now, just when she was leaving; he was here! _Perhaps business had called him to the spot. But what business could he have with this village girl? “One thing I must impress on you. What- ever bi) pia I must see you again, and to- night. , what agonies I shall suffer in the meantime!” © Had she heard aright? Was this her brother Reginald saying this?—her brother, so trusted and loved by her! If there were no explana- tion of this dreadful thing, better that she should lay down her head and die, and not struggle any more. : Reginald and the village girl still remained in earnest talk, but Delia heard nothing more; and as she stood spellbound, her young brother walked away slowly, the girl accompanying him, treading softly on the frozen grass. And thus the pair vanished from her sight. It was necessary that Delia should rouse her- self, for some of their visitors were to leave soon, Fay among the number, and she must be there to say good by to each. _ And then—then she would lose not a moment in seeking Reginald, and entreating him, by their mutual love for one another, to tell her the truth. ’ _He. owed it to Fay, to every principle of right, to carry on uo underhand correspond- ence with a girl such as the one she had seen, Was it to be her dreadful fate to live to know that both her brothers could be dishonorable? The bustle of approaching departure per- vaded the Abbey as she reéntered it. ' When she reached the drawing-room, Mrs. Ashley was standing near the fireplace with a disturbed countenance, and Fay was in tears, No one else was in the room... ‘*Tam so glad to see you, my dear Delia!” began Mrs. Ashley, in a voice of distress. ‘Do come and try to comfort Favoretta, and explain things to us,” ' ‘‘ What things?” asked Delia, herself wonder- sas 3 what had happened. nd turning to Fay, she said, ‘‘ What has troubled you, dear Fay?” ‘“Oh!” exclaimed the young girl, trying hard not to seem too much overcome. ‘‘ Mrs, Ashley must not make you suppose that anything as- tonishing has occurred, or that there is a rea- son for conjecturing some disaster, because your brother writes to bid me and all of us good-by, instead of seeing us himself.. It seems, from his note to. me, that he has had to leave the Abbey suddenly for London on business, so he writes his adieux, as time and trains wait for no man!” . : ne FI Rogipals gone—to London, then?” stam- mered Delia. |, ‘“Ves, so it seems,” replied Mrs. Ashley; while Fay, striving not to let her tears fall, was reading for the sixth or seventh time the few short words which had been written by her lover, How cold they read! Was it fancy or hard reality? “DEAREST Fay: - ‘ “Tam very unexpectedly called to London, and must not lose a train, so I have to write my adieu instead of speaking it, You will know Ishall let you hear from .me at the earliest possible moment. “Yours ever, Rea@inatp Larcu. “P. S.—Entreat Mrs. Ashley to make all the ex- cuses necessary to our guests for me, I did not foresee this hurried journey.”’ And that was.all, > Yet she and he had parted—how fondly !— last night, her hand»in, bis, and he had whis- pered a few words which thrilled her heart with joy. ‘** All his deepest happiness had been born since he first.saw her dear face,” he had said in tones which to Fay had been as sweetest music. Their hands had been locked together; ‘‘ To live without her:now would be impossible!” Reginald had breathed, soft and low, as he left his kiss on her fair cheek. And this morning he had left her thus! The few lines read cold and chill to the warm- hearted and loving girl, whose future bliss was all bound up in him. ; Delia—who had so lately encountered her brother in the shrubbery—was altogether over- whelmed, and sat down without saying another word, “Well, my dear,” resumed Mrs. Ashley, ‘I don’t know that there is any reason why you should be so much distressed about it. Reggy has not run away for good! But do you know anything of the cause of this sudden ab- sence?” ‘“T? stammered Delia. ‘‘No; nothing!” “T thought it just possible that you might, my dear, considering that Lord Lindsay left us so suddenly. Oh, Delia, dear! I am so truly grieved that you cannot see Lord Lindsay’s worth, and his devotion for you.” “But—but J did not send. Lord Lindsay away! I did not tell him to leave the Abbey !” cried Delia, more distressed than before. “Perhaps not, in so many words, Delia; but we could all sce how he felt. Is Reginald gone away on his account, my dear?’ ‘‘ Not that I know,” replied Delia, faintly. Her head swam with this new trouble. Regivald was gone. Where? Why? But he was not gone; he was hiding in the shrubbery in order to. escape observation, and to avoid the good-by to Fay. “We need not all of us look as if we were go- ing to a funeral, Delia,” cried Fay, trying to laugh, . ‘ Reginald will write as soon as he ges to town, I suppose, both to you and to me. Well, I had better prepare for my own depar- ture, and you are not to tell Reggy that we all sat round the fire arid wept over his note.” ‘*No, indeed! cried Mrs. Ashley, brightenin up, as she began to think that, after all, Regi- nald’s sudden absence would. be satis‘actorily explained, ‘And oh, Delia! if you will think over matters, I am sure you will not refuse to recall that nice Lord Lindsay. Never have I valued any young man so much!” ‘* But, dear Mrs. Ashley, do not talk as if—as if I had refused him! He didnot give me the Spr and I am persuaded that he never will. “Because you have repelled him,” said the elder lady, with asigh.. ._. Then other people came in, and Fay rose hastily, saying she must dress for her railway journey; and an hour afterward she took a
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HAUNTED HEARTS. ~ 9 tearful adieu of Delia, and the latter found her- sélf toward four o’clock that afternoon alone _ with Mrs. Ashley, the visitors gone. Reginald absent—the great rooms untenanted save by Hersélf and that quiet old lady. z CHAPTER VIII. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED, “Wate hush in the storm which had raged about her so fiercely during the last few days! How terrible, too, was the quiet, peopled with theremembrance of all that had come to her! And what was yet to come? . That she could not know, but threatening fears met her on every side. The seemingly interminable hours of that da went by at length, and morning brought wit it a short letter trom Reginald. “I may be detained here a few days,” he wrote, so that I shall hardly be able to get to Sir Crofton Earle’s so soon-as I had hoped.* Of course I shall write to Fay.” This was all, and Delia felt renewed uneasi- ness. A whole week rolled away; New Year’s Day dawned and waned, and others succeeded if, while Mrs. Ashley pottered about in the gar- den, and drove out, and fell asleep in her easy- chair after dinner, and went through her easy existence, without discovering that Delia was changed—changed from a happy, careless, -blooming» girl, to a saddened, restless, care- laden one, Delia had written to Reginald at his club, but it was impossible ‘to write all she had to urge; and she could only tell him how much she hoped that he would manage a speedy re- turn to the Abbey, as she had much to say to him of great import. Then came a few more short lines from him, a hasty excuse for his absence, which really ex- plained nothing. . The very next post brought something quite unexpected to Delia—a letter addressed to her- self, in that same bold writing which had been on the envelope she had first taken in at the library window. re shrinking heart, Delia opened it and read: “T have oe id against troubling you, Delia, but I was seized with serious illness on coming to London, which I did almost immediately after our last sight of each other, I should not like to die without a few Jast words. Will you not make some excuse to come to'town, and grant the last prayer of JL.” oe What could she do in answer to such an ap peal? She must obey it; but how? Mrs. Ashley was the dearest of old ladies, and fain would Delia have had. the comfort of re- erring to her in this sad perplexity; but, alas! Mrs. Ashley could not keep a secret, and to con- fide in her would have been to trust the whole of their intimate acquaintances with the fact of James Larch’s existence, and the necessity he had wines roi himself to of evading the law. Thus Delia saw herself forced to go on a false “pretense. “T want to run up to London and see what Reggy is doing,” said she, inwardly trembling, as they parted for the night, ‘*To. London!” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley, in much the same tone as she would have used if told that Delia meditated a journey to Lap- land. **To see Reginald,” repeated Delia. ““Well, my dear, then I must make an effort to go! But at this time of year it certainly is not pleasant.” “Ob! I could not ask you to go,” the girl has- tened to say. ‘My maid would escort me, and Reginald —” : rig ine would be at the other end to meet you? It might be managed in that way, cer- ai A ‘ “That is the way in which we wil? manage it,” said Delia, decidedly. ‘‘Good-night, dear rs, Ashley. I will be off by an early train to- morrow, then 1 shall get back sooner. So good- by, as well as good-night.” She spoke with concealed pee ef for she did not intend to send Reginald a telegram to meet her at the other end of her journey. She would see him, truly, but not till she had first seen her other brother, James, whose bones were supposed to lie whitening on a North ican prairie. “Betaow Delia ng oe an embarrassment she had never felt before. Sh* had no means for her journey and that of her maid, for she had given all her money to her elder brother, and to borrew of Mrs. Ashley would give rise to i tions. o innumerable questi iate difficulty by bor- She solved the immed rowing of her maid, on some excuse, and in the cold fog and frostiness of an early morning in January, they started. By nine o’clock they were well on their way to London; by eleven o’clock the shrinking girl and her attendant were at Victoria Station. *‘Now, Marston, I want you to go on to our town-house, and wait for me, I will go to my brother alone.” ‘** Alone, miss! But what would Mrs. Ashley say?” cried tbe maid, thunderstruck. ‘I know that I must tell her afterward, Marston, but at present it is best to manage as I arrange. Besides, what possible harm can happen to mé in a cab? “Am JI not going to see my own brother?” ““To be sure, miss,” said Marston, who did not quite go the length of accusing Miss. Larch of being about to visit a sweetheart. So far, then, Delia’s way was smooth—all ex- cept the awkward part of having no money with which to repay what she had borrowed of her maid when t: ey returned to the Abbey. Reginald and Mrs. Ashley had both known that she possessed fifty pounds untouched a few days previously; they had each laughed at her careful and thrifty habits of always having cash at command, and paying ready money for her personal expenses. How then was she to ac- count for her present poverty, which sooner or later must leak out? For she had promised to give fifteen pounds to a poor family in the neighborhood of the Abbey, who had suffered great loss from fire, but that subscription she was now powerless to pay. With these uncomfortable reflections in her mind, the rumbling cab brought her in less than half-an-hour. to. a quiet, somewhat poor, side street. in Pimlico, where her brother James lodged. An untidy maid-servant answered her sum- mons, and Delia was as much. surprised to be- hold such a person as the maid was at, seeing so elegant a day lady as Miss Larch standing there inquiring for the gentleman, Mr. Roberts, who had lately come to live there, > “There ain’t no one come here lately, miss; the gent as is here now has stayed on an’ on for six year an’more. A stout party; old he is, but his name isn’t Roberts—’tis Thomas.” “« Are you sure?” asked Delia. ‘La, yes, miss! ’Tisn’t like I shouldn’t know, for I’ve been here five year. I’m eighteen to- morrow, an’ I came when I was thirteen.” “Is Mr. Thomas ill?’ inquired Delia, think- ing that there was some mistake. “Til? No; he’s as well as you or me and that stout! There, miss, if you want a sight—” But Delia had heard enough. She had come to the wrong address, that was plain; but she come to the address given in her brother’s etter. “‘What shall I do now?’ asked she of the roughservant girl. ‘‘I came to London to see a sick friend; he may be dying. Surely this is Connington street, Pimlico?” ‘* Sure enough it is, miss, No. 117. No; you’ve made no mistake. Try at 17, and at 27, and 7, and see if you don’t find the party you wants there. °Tis the number you want, not the street.” And so Delia, in haste and trepidation (She had dismissed the cab), went to No. 27, and then to No. 17, and on to No, 7. But with no success. Mr, Roberts was not a lodger at any of those places. She now determined to summon courage and knock at every house in Conningtan street till she came to the right one, and had twice made her weary inquiry, when an exclamation from a voice, which thrilled and terrified her at once, made her look round to meet the questioning eyes and sad face of Lord Lindsay Deane. ‘‘Miss Larch! Delia! You here, alone?’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ Were you going anywhere near? Can I aid you?” : ‘“‘No, thank you,” replied Delia, trembling. Tam in great haste, Lord Lindsay, and must hurry on.’ ‘How can I leave you here, unless your bro- ther is with you, or some friend? Is it possible that Mrs. Ashley permitted you to come to town alone?” ‘*My maid escorted me, and Reginald is in ee a I made the journey to see my bro- er. ; : “But he is not with you! I-have Nga! met him, and fear, from the hasty manner in which he left me, that he is in some anxiety,” “Indeed! But I must not delay. Excuse me, Lord Lindsay, but Imust goon.” © ~ “Delia,” sail he, ‘I willnot leave you in this out-of-the-w ay street unless with some.responsi- ble escort.” nme “Do I understand you to threaten to watch my actions, Lord Lindsay?’ cried Delia, com- pletely dismayed. r “IT have not threatened anything, but I will watch over your safety while you are here alone.” ‘‘Oh, Heaven!” she cried, bursting into tears; “and timeis flying! Lord Lindsay, you do not understand the importance to me, aid to a dying person, of every moment that is now passing away.” ‘Delia, you know. my devotion to you. I will be as one blind or deaf. I will remain tongue-tied as to this interview, if you will per- mit me to be your escort. Thatis all Task. Is it too much?” “ And is it too much to ask, on my part, that you leave me free—unfettered? Cannot you in- fer from what I bavetold you, that I came here on a charitable errand, to see a dying person? By prolonging this interview you are torturing me ’ ‘You force me to-leave you. But I will re- main there at the corner of the street till you return, Remember, if you need a friend’s help, there I am!” “ Lord Lindsay, you must not watch my ac- tions, As I have already told you, I came here to see a dying person.” ‘Whom she loves!” he thought within him- self, But, aloud, he said, ‘Go! I will not fol- low you!” ey Then he walked some distance away, and she “continued her search. At last, at No. 11, which she did not reach until she bad gone the weary length ot one side of the street, she learnt that a Mr. Roberts did lodge there, , Curry OTT ‘*And he is very ill?’ asked Delia, now: half fainting. ‘Well, miss, he has been bad; but, to-day, “bad as he’s been, he said he must get up.and go out, And out he did g° nigh on eleven o’clock.” “Gone out!” echoed Delia. _*T supposed him dying! Ihave come a long journey on purpose to see him, and now you tell me he is gone out!’ ‘ “That he is, miss, and no mistake! And when he’ll be back is more’n I’ know. You’d best step in.” ‘ “T can-ot wait,” said Delia, feeling some in- at at her brother’s thoughtlessness. e could not be so very illif he could rise and ‘go out! And to what pain andsuspicion had he not exposed her! “Will you say, please, that a young lady came to see him—a lady named Delia; and that she had had such great trouble in coming she would not be able to call again, but that she was glad to find him better.” ‘*Ta, yes, miss. He’ll be sorry to have missed you, I’ll be bound, but he said as he must go out.” With that, Delia walked away, and Lord Lindsay met her as she neared the corner of the street. e ‘“‘T did not once look round. I know nothing ot roe you have been, Delia,” said he, ten- er ; : (And i,” she said, faintly, ‘‘I did not find the person ] came to see, and whom | believed to be dying. Lord Lindsay, from my heartI — am sorry not to be able to tell you more. Are we not bound to guard another's secrets?” ‘‘Sometimes,” he answered. ‘At any rate, I will guard this secret of yours. But what is this? You are overcome with fatigue, or with what you havesuffered! Let me get you a cab. Ob, that I am to lose sight of you like this! Delia, it will break my heart!” Puy “And mine!” escaped her lips, as if against her will. v “What doI hear? Oh, my own darling, did you tell me that our separation gave Pi pain —that it would break your heart also‘ ‘“*T said—I said that what I suffered would kill me,” replied she, covered with confusion, and now only anxious to leave him. But he held fast her hand, “Delia, you cannot leave me till I know from your own lips what those two words meant. I see that you are unhappy; I have known it these. few last dreadful days. But now I must be assured whether in what you suffer, any particle of that pain is caused by your separation from me, tf so, never, never will I give up hope—never will I unce you, Delia!”, said he, pessionatele: "ey Sie “Lord Lindsay,” she faltered, “I entreat yon to let me leave you now! ¥ cient for you to ee never, at an She paused. ' “Could never return my affection?’ breathed pairing tones, It must be suf- Rel: ow that I could never, ime— he, in passionate, des
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10 Dalia wad ‘sllewt: Tia Sune “ake tall- thle} poe for the end truth. T 40 was silent. Tow could she tell this man he was nothing to her, when her heart danced to a joyous music, saddened as she was, by the remembrance that he loved her? ‘You are silent, Delia,” he repeated. “T must leave * you,” she said, in helpless ise ‘You shall. But, dearest, I will not be slow in following you to ‘the Abbey to ask you the question there.” “Oh, no, no!” she faltered. ‘There, too, and always, 1 must tell you the same thing— that we are separated!” Lord Lindsay hailed a cab, put her into it, then following k her, he bent and imprinted a fer- vent kiss on the hand he clasped for a moment. And then he left her; and the cab which bore Delia away from his ‘longing ve a moment afterward, carried a despairing girl. Was she not in reality bound as heavy a chain as before? Was she one whit more free to accept Lindsay’s love? Would she ever be— ever at any time? Oh, no; for nothing could undo the fact that her brother James had committed forgery, and perhaps taken a man’s life! That fact must re- main a wall of adamant between her and Lind- say, even though her erring brother slept in ever so deep a grave. But yet, as the cab took her away from Lindsay’s dear presence, a ray of consolation struck across her at a —a line = hea glory on the dark sea of her hopeless- Sr aideay had repeated that he loved her. Would she ever forget that? CHAPTER IX. THE NEWS WHICH AWAITED DELIA, “T THINK I have had my journey for noth- ing,” said Delia, as, at. length, her cab drew up at the town mansion, where her maid awaited her. ‘My brother was not to be found at his club, I made the cabman inquire for him.” ‘“‘ And he has not been here, ma'am; and you look so tired. Mrs. Mathews has fet. you some luncheon, ma’am, and some tea. If you are re- taming fo. the Abbey by the balf past three o’clock ‘ train, we shall not have much time to Delia shivered by the blazing fire in the dis- ‘used breakfast-room—shivered more even from excitement than from exhaustion. The outside world looked indescribably gloomy, for dark- ness was not far off that January ar, and fog hung in the air and brooded over the city. But despite the fog, and Geers wie her in- tense fatigue, the image of Lord dsay, his words and looks, recurred to support har. Soon after, Delia and her maid drove off for Victoria Station, whence; some time before six o'clock, they neared Larch Abbey again. ‘Mr. Larch may } sve returned before us, miss,” said the maid, cheerily as the train stopped. el | shouldn’t wonder now if he was here to meet you, miss.” Delia scanned the platform eagerly, and hoe tte out; but no tall, vouthful form, with es and joyful looks, met her gaze, She. <th only answered by the gloom Lund mourn- fulness of moht, A Sgtringe had been sent to take her ae and Delia hoped that when she arrived, Ashley would neither be too curious as to the manner in which she had spent her hours in London, nor too close in her questioning. But she soon found that she wo d have nothing formidable in that way to encounter. Mrs. Ashley was in tears, and the greatest dis- tress. ‘‘Oh, my dear, I do not know how to tell you what has happened! Icannot find the words! It is too dreadful!” And then came another burst of tears. ‘Pray, do tell me, dear Mrs, eee core me at once, for suspense is hard to bear! “Tt is about poor Fay!” wept Mrs. Ashley. “Ts heill?’ cried Delia, in alarm. “No, teal veg of irl; unless she is ill from wretch only this morning I had a Jetter feds hi hee telling me that Lady Catherine Barues had promise to be her sixth bridemaid; and then this bl. w falls!” “Dear Ashley, what is it?’ implored Delia, sinking down at the old lady’s feet, and seizing her hands. ‘I don’t know what Sir Crofton Earle will say i but you have been told what a furious mper he has. I shouldn’t wonder if he took legal p roceedings, Delia.” B, tell mel” "cried Delia, again—‘‘ tell me at once!” “Well, my dear, I have as good as told you, now, and you must see that 1 wished to prepare HAUNTED 107 AUNT ED AR Toe ou for the sad truth. I don’t understand what is done in such cases about w ddivg presents; but I am sure the pear] ear-drops Fay had from old Mrs. Vane must have cost three hundrest pounds, at Jeast. But what is edi them, or anything else, compared to losing her happi- ness? Your brother Reginald has jilted her, my dear!” “Tt isnot possible!” broke from Delia’s lips. ‘‘There is her letter, and Reginald’s. Both came by the afternoon post. Read them, and see if there is any hope Delia sunk down on Pils nearest chair, over come with this new trouble. erga to jilt Fay! It did not seem pos- sible ‘She first opened poor Fay’s letter, and read: ‘*Drarest Dexia: I must call you so, for we were to have been sisters so soon! TI am nearly blinded with tears as I write this. Reginald has sent me such a cruel letter! Yes, cruel: though in it he tells me he shall die with my image in his heart. He says, Delia, that he shall never marry; that it has become his duty to live and die a lonely man; that Mount’s Castle and nearly all he possesses is mine by right, but that we two must live and die apart. ‘* How can he write such cruel words to me? How have 1 deserved them, Delia? My heart is broken You can speak where / cannot. hat would be to me a hundred castles without his love? His love!— if : have lost it, Delia, I snust live without it—or t na Delia! you are with him, You can question T cannot. He says that we are not to meet oa il And I can only acquiesce in such a hard de- cision, Will you write to me, then? Will you find out for me what it is which has estranged him from me in these few short days? Ah! my heart misgave me when | left Larch Abbey, and he sent me that short, cold note of adieu. “T know it is the fashion for girls to hide their feelings, and to be as ready to renounce a lover as he may be to forget them; but, Delia, we were affi- anced, and I, at least, cannot resign my life's happi- ness withou asking’ why it is wrest:d from me. You are be on sagan then, Delia, and I think you will uot fa Your heart-broken “Fay Ear.” ‘And here is Reginald’s letter, my dear,” said Mrs. Ashley, beginning to weep anew, and watching Delia’s pale face as she read: Reginala’s letter ran thus: ““My D ar Mrs. Asuiry: A blighted my life, a sorrow which eat sorrow has cannot explain. I no longer look forward to a happy marriage with Fay, and have written’ to tell her so. It is 1.0t + ipocapag in my present frame of mind, that I should come back to the Abbey, save for one or two days; but I find that I cannot leave England fora lengthened Seer withouta business interview with the steward, and settling some things which hitherto I have arranged for Delia since her ardian’s death. ‘* During this time, I must not be questioned. I can explain nothing, and only useless pain to us all could result from questions conceruing my motives aad breaking off my engagement to Fay and going abroa a will forgive me, I hope, for writing abrupt- ly, for 1 feel acutely the change in my so recent happy prospects. “Give my sister the isclosed note. She will grieve, I fear, for this suuden alteration in our plans. Iam ever, dear Mrs. Ashley vp Yours affec tionately, ‘REGINALD LazcH,”’ ‘‘He is in great haste to fly from us all, my dear; but something ought to be done to pre- vent the ruin of the happiness of two lives. Don’t you think so?” ene that we could see what to do!” gasped elia “There is still his letter to you to read, Delia.’ It was as follows: “My Dzar Dexia: I write to you at a solemn mo- ment of my life—at an hour when everything like happiness is wrenched from me. Therefore, I think ou will consent to give consideration to my words. Lately Lhave fancied that you and Lindsay Deane were drifting apart. Do not let any idle fancy or girlish readiness to be exacting make you foolish enough to slight his love. He is a gocd fellow, and you will not now have me to watch over you. “Oh, Delia! it is a eru ’ blow which has struck me, all the more so bocause I could neither foresce nor ward it off. ‘We shall meet only to separate; they will have told you that. Do not make our parting more bitter than it must be by useless entreaties. 7 “Your ever-lovin br: ther, EGINALD.”’ ‘And what does he say to you, Delia? Does he : out to you?” ot at all. Dear Mrs, Ashley, you must ist repeat what he says bere to me, andl am reluctant to show you; but if I do not, you will su nae there is some secret.” es, that I shall, my dear; and be so un- aie Well, then, he advises me to accept Lord Lindsay Deane,” added Delia, with a, vivid blush; “but as 1 cannot accept him, we will say no more about is. Mrs. Ashley, however, did say a great deal more about it; for great was ler desire to see Deiia Lauy Lindsay Deane. ‘“{ do not see what there is to be done in this sed business—do you, Dela? Shall we send for Lord Lindsay to speak to Reginald when he ar- rives? He might 1 sten to him.” ‘‘Imp ssible! Ob, no, no, dear Mrs, Ashley!” cried Delia. ‘ Wait; let me think a moment! I want to think!” Delia rose from her chair restlessly, and as she paced about the room, was debating whe- ther she should send a telegram to ber aunt, Lady Wood, now in the south of France, to ac- quaint ber with the state of things, and beg her toreturn home at once; for R- ginald had de- clared be would answer no questions; but this aunt bad much influe:ce with him, and he gave her all the affection of a son. ‘*Let us send a telegram to aunt Wood. He may listen to her!” cried Delia, stopping in her bur. ried walk, “The very thing, my dear! Oh, what com- fort the thought bas given me! Tell her she mu t come snrengh t to the Abbey, and travel almost without a break.” ‘*§ e will have time to get here, for Reginald writes as it he should not arrive for a day or two, and he willbe detained here another two or three days, he says.” Much comtorted by this sending of the tele- gram, Mrs. Ashley prepared to eat her dinner. and to hope that all would yet be well. Bu Delia coal & take rest only because hares laid on her its heavy hand, and no dreams of a sunny future tor her or for Reginald visited her heavy siumbers that bitter night, CHAPTER X. DELIA HAS TO ANSWER SOME DIFFICULT QUES- TIONS. Tux next twenty-four hours had not run their course when Reginald arrived at the Abbey. He came in unannounced, greeting his sister and Mrs. Ashley ia his usual manner. But features seemed cut in stone, and nosmile broke across them; nor did any ray of gladness shine : t iat eyes that were once all mirth and bright- ” Delia and Mrs. Ashley kissed him in silence, each beginnin 5 Ae calculate how far on her way to the Abbey Wood might be. The short etna exchanged between the two ladies and Reginald were constrained and lew. aed Had oer: a cold journey, Reginald?” asked “] pray gl so; I did not observe,” replied he. Delia could not venture on a remark, for her voive was choked with tears. Reginald sat down, and hastily opened some letters awaiting him: then rose, and left the room, merely asking if dinner could be deferred till eight o'clock, , Delia, 1 am more concerned than ever now that 1 have seen him!” cried Mrs, Ashley, as the door closed behind him Sowas Delia. But with the evening letters had arrived an. unwelcome one for her. She ac recognized the handwriting of her brother ames, “Tt is not possible to tell you, Delia,” wrote he, “how much I feel your kindness in coming to see me; and you may rest assured that no common oc- currence orced me to be absent when you arrived. Ti as I was, 1 had to leave my sick-bed that morn- ing, for, Delia, I may have to fly from England, and | sud ‘enl: “In this case, I must see you once more, as there is yet something to ag hg to you, of which you are at present ignorant. But I could no t ask you to run the risk of another journey to London. I will come (it w'll be for the last time) to the library win- dow, and I must not venture so close as early in the evening as before: “When I last wrote to you, I believed myself dy- ing; but my partial recovery was as rapid as my at- ay When we meet I will explain fully and clear’ eH i + have to leave England at once, can you ig op Feta to advance funds for that Fie 2 08e? 1 want at Jeast a hundred peste should ua more; and how many thousands a year has m ther Reginald !—how many thousands will you bees while I, the heir to all—I have to petition for a pit- tance! But do not think I say this to reproach you my good, my dear sister! I reproach myself; bu would it be in human nature not to feel bitterly? “*Yours, most unhappy, . Larow.” This further communication sorel y embar- rassed Delia. To bave forthcoming a hundred pounds at a moment’s notice was well-nigh im- possible to her; besides which, she owed her maid five pounds, and every day: expected to be asked for the fifteen guineas which in a hap-
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—— ‘ * ee eee se pier time she had promised to the family whose cottage had been burned. : It is true she had much valuable jewelry ; but if she disposed of that, she would inevitably be questioned at a future time. How should she answer such questions? But yet it was true that there were thousands spent at Larch Abbey which would have belonged of right to him who now petitioned for a hundred! The receipt of this letter by no means tended to calm her ae ena as she went down-stairs to meet Reginald: and even he, absorbed as he in in his own griefs, exclaimed, at the sight of her: ‘““You are not well, Delia, or else you are very unhappy!” said he. **T am not very happy, but never mind that,” sy ort she, turning away from wis scrutiny. ginald said no more, attributing ber altered looks to sorrow for his sudden departure, and still more to some coldness or misunderstanding with Lord Lindsay. ‘Don’t throw away your happiness, Delia,” No,” she answered, in low accents of deep feeling; ‘‘ but happiness may be torn from us ” ‘That is true, indeed!” said he, bitterly, and then was silent. Delia had hoped be would connect what she had said with the sorrow she moust feel at bis severance from Fay, and his sudden mysterious leave-taking. Indirectly she must entreat him, if in no other manner. The dinner was heavy beyond endurance, Reginald ate nothing, and when he uttered a bid words, forgot sometimes to finish his sen- nce. Toward the conclusion of the meal, when the servants had withdrawn, he addressed Delia suddenly: ““We must not forget those poor Johnstones, who were burnt out. How much did you say ou would give them, Delia? That must be one at once.” “*T said I would give fifteen guineas,” faltered Delia, a troubled flush mounting to her brow. “Will you let them go with my subscription, and _ them to me to-night?” Delia’s confusion increased. “‘Suppose vou get the money as soon as you go up-stairs?” continued Regiuald, gloomily. Then, as still she did not reply, a looked at his sister. Her distress was evident. “ Reginald, I have not the money; I want some very badly just now,” stammered she. ‘““Want some!” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley. “Why, my dear, you had fifty pounds a fort- night ago, and you are always so careful!” ‘ ‘Yes, yes—hut,” said Delia, “I have spent it.” “ How?” asked Reginald, shortly. : “TI gave it away,” said Delia, still more confused than before. course it is right that you should give: but to , you dispose of your money is not right. You are only eighteen, Delia, and three hundred a-year ought to be enough tor your present wants, when those wants mean merely uress and small charities. How are you to manage the pag Helge this large estate entaiss if | you cannot keep within bounds vn three hun- dred a-year, when all your needful expenses | are paid?” , ‘It is painful to me not to tell you, R gey; | : < - but I have promised to be silent, anc I cannot —I ought not to speak of this gitt. You ycur- — would say that I ought uot to do so,” cried | she. ‘*Perhaps you have been made to think so. However, let us say no more avout it, Delia. I confess that it has made me rather anxious.” | * And now, pray, let me have tie two hun- dred pounds,” urgei Delia, with tears in her eyes. *¢ It must be one bundred,” said Reginald, de- cisively, ‘‘That will surely allow a com: orta- ble margin, even when you have paid the twen- ia pounds owing to your maid and to the | be bound not to tell your nearest relatives bow ohnstones.” ‘‘No, it will not do what I want, indeed,” | eried Delia, who asked herself how she stiould | find the hundred pounds nee’ed by that un- known brother, who might ask for it even oy to-morrow’s post. But Reginald was inflexible. Moreover, Delia’s unusual persistency, and her deep disap- intment at his refusal of the money. gave im an uneasy feeling. Mrs. Ashley, too, was as much surprised as Reginald; but she forbore to add her remarks to Delia’s distress. ‘*Since I cannot get the money. I must let my jewels go,” decided Delia. ‘i shall be sus- | pected, and I cannot explain.” They rose from’ table, and Reginald did not follow them into the drawing-rvom. When ten o’clock struck, a footman brought in a note to Mrs. Ashley. That kind old lady read ae some satisfaction these lines from ald: “1 fargotto tell you that Lindsay Deane will be here to dine and sleep to-morrow evening. He met me, and asked to come. Better not tel! Delia.” Mrs. Ashley made no comment on the note, and soon afterward Delia said “‘ Good-night, and left the room. ' CHAPTER XI. THE CLIMAX, ‘* How ill Reggy is!” smote through Delia’s ‘“And to whom?” questioned her brother, | heart, as she met her brother at the morning sternly, with the feeling that some one ha been ier a large sum from his inexperienced sister, and that he must put her on her guard. ‘J gave it in charity,” said Delia, trembling. “‘Indiscriminate charity creates paupers, I have heard it said,” remarked Mrs. Ashley in the pause which followed. ‘“Who has been imposing on you, Delia?” asked Reginald, with a weary sigh “*T gave it willingly, and feel that I did right in doing so; but, Reginald, when 1 went to London to see you yesterday, I had no money, and it was soembarrassing! I had to borrow five pounds of Marston.” “And vou owe these fifteen guineas to the Johnstones, because you promised them the money?” is es,” said Delia, feeling very uncomfort- able. “Well, Delia, you will get into trouble—and serious trouble—if you spend beforehand what you ainaaiioass 5 ete liable met and borrow or exi - if you go upon that principle you will get into difficulties, eles ts von re. “‘T hope because I really do want it. Can you let me have two hundred pounds?” asked she, ‘“Two hundred! Why?’ questioned. Regi- nald, who felt sure that the money was not to be spent on herself. ‘Yes, please; I want as much as two hun- dred.” , “Delia, you oi ahh it, 5 Be will tell me ow t the junds. him th Why, that would be to tell ea that ? m all! sence ot Ihave pepe? not. It wasin red Delia. “We , then, Delia, for your sake, I refuse. am sure some one is imposing on your generosity, and I will stop it at once. Of I can have some money now, Reggy, meal. Daylight showed, even more clearly than had the previous night, his haggard looks; and he | was thus changed in a few short days. Wuat, | then, would a few months do? | As this thought pressed on the young girl, | Reginaid was taking a long and furtive gaze at | his sister. _ She was not wont to look as she did this morn ing. ‘3s he noted this, he observed that a pain- ful expression crossed ber face as she took up a letter awaiting ver—a letter which she hastened to put into her pocket, unread. “Tf she accepts Lindsay, she will be in his keeping, and I need not be anxious. If not, 1 must question her,” he decided. ‘*T shall be occupied all day,” he remarked to Mrs. Ashley. ‘‘ But I wiilsee you and Delia at dinner. [ shall probatly leave by the night train to-morrow.” “To morrow! And suppose Lady Wood did not arrive till he was gone! That was the thought in the hearts of both ladies as they looked silently at each other, while Reginald left the room. { ‘My one hope is that she will come in time,” said Mrs. Ashley. bresking silence. ‘“‘ And mine,” added Delia. =, And then she slipped away to read that letter which lay concealed—a source of infinite anx- rs, ey her pocket. hat anxiety was by no means allayed as she “ As I feared, I must leave this country, and { will come to-night for the two hundred pounds, Oh, Delia! make it a larger sum, if possible. Dol give | youtrouble? Well, it will be for the last time, and | our interview will be of the shortest. .. “You will give me the money, and I will let you ‘have the address to which, henceforward, you may | transmit my allowance abroad. “There is one thing more; but all my hopes hang 114 on it for even] have hopes, Delia. I want te hear from your vwn tips thai if \ die, you will coutinue to my ch.ld—ror «1 have a child, velia—the ullowarce you send me. Wheu i aave that assurance, I will de- part, and trouble you no more, forever, . “We must not meet at the same hour as belore}; but come to the same place—the library window— soon afcer the househoid have retired to vest, “wo moments wii end ou interview; und even should you be heard in remounting the stairs, how tastiy could you account for you: ; resevce 1 the livrary! Lt would be only tu carry a book with yuu, and to say tuat you could not sleep. “TI shall count on you, then—to-norrow, soon aiver midnight. Your ever unhappy ras 5 ee Shaken as she had been, the idea ot mecting him alone, so late, was imtensely terrifying to Delia, aud nothing would have nade her con- sent but the belief which vad taken possession. of her tant be had in some way been traced, and. must fly, and had not the means to do so, But the money! Delia was desperate. She collected most of her valuable bracelets a jeweled pendant, earrings, and a diamond. locket, und putting them into a small basket, locked them in one of her drawers, ready for tran: port, The cay wore on, Contrary to the expectation of Delia ana Mrs. Asbiey Reyinald came into the drawing- roon tcowara Live o'clock and asked tor some tea. Just tle. « ring at the hall door announced @ Visivor, * Lindss y Deane, ! i * remarked Regi- nald. carelessly, “ bid tell you, Delia, that he begged to come bere to see me to-night?” “No,” saio she, faintly. me But it was not Lindsay Deane who entered. It was the secr.tiy longed-for aunt, Lady Wood. “Is it you, aunt? I did not think you in-. tended returning before the spring!” exclaimed. Reginald, in astonisiment. “I altered my plans lately, my dear boy,” said sie, kissing him affectionately, and taking no apparent notice either ot bis altered looks or ot Detia’s. ‘* Oh, how nice to be here, after my coid, lon; journes! You expect another visit: r, J imagine; for a fly was rumbling after mine all up the drive.” a Tord Lindsay Deane!” said Mrs. Ashley. Yes, it was he, indeed; and Delia changed color more than ouce as he took her hand in greeting. Thanks to these arrivals, the dinner to-night. was not quite so dreary as on the day before, though even now Reginald was almost silent, and Delia too wretched to do more than go through the meal in dumb show. ‘*Shall you speak to Reginald to-night?” cried. Mrs. Ashley, the moment she was alone with zt ; * Yes; to-night! But say nothing about it, not even to Delia.” it was late when they left the dining room; tor Lady Wood had talked on about the South oi France, and Lord Lindsay had kept up the conversation; so that vo stranger would have suspected that under the assumed ease, the ueurts of al) gathered around the dinner-table were torp with sharp anxiety. How deep, in Delia’s case, could not be esti- mated; and, surely, Reginald’s must be as heavy as bers, to make him thus leave bis prom- ised bride, and all the joys which youth and wealth offered bim, Delia retired early. She wished to do nothing to encourage Lind- say s suit; while. on his side, he as steadfastly resorved to speak to ber the moment she left the breakfast room next morning. By midnight, deep silence reigned throughout tve Abbey. it was very sti nig t; not even the moaning and sighing ot the wind broke the quiet, The unhappy Delia, pale as the whitest flower in her own beautiful conservatory, took up the basket laden with trinkets, and with noiseless footfall proceeded along the carpeted corridors, and down the wide staircase, She gained tie library door. Another ten minutes, and her ordeal would be over, and sbe would breathe again. Now she caught her breath at each instant, trembling es she went. : <i Bot bere she was at the door, a door which rolled rack softly on its hinges, and made no sound to pt ge the terrified intruder. If the window would open as softly, surely no one woula be disturbed—no one! a és There were other watchers besides Delia that night im the old Abbey, for Mrs. Ashley and Lady Wood held anxious converse together, Baas till d should leave Lindsay for a winter’ } se eS = eee
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42 oe HAUNTED HEARTS. The two young men were still talking in a room below, for sleep was far from either of them, and Lindsay had much to say. “T must be ready to waylay him,” said Lady Wood, listening above for the sound of the opening door. To her amazement, she saw Delia appear at the head of the staircase—Delia, who hesitated, as if in dread, and then crept tremblingly down-stairs. Something in the girl’s aspect made both Lady Wood and Mrs, Ashley instantaneously decide to follow, and they went after her swiftly, with cautious tread. Delia alone carried a taper, a little star of. light amid the surrounding darkness, She went to the door of the library, set down her precious basket with intense care, in orderto avoid mak- ing any noise, and opened the great door; but not before Lady Wood, who had got near her and was then standing in a little recess, had caught plain view of what Delia carried—a number of jewel cases. Could she mean flight? Lady Wood trembled almost as much as Delia as the latter opened the door, “Bring Reginald!” she whispered to Mrs. Ashley, when Delia had closed the door and ~vanished. 2 Lord Lindsay and the unhappy Reginald were standing on the hearth-rug in the smok- _“ing-room, when their conference was suddenly broken in upon by the appearance of the frightened Mrs. Ashley, who was impressed by the necessity of giving Delia no alarm, and yet ‘that their action should be prompt. -- “Come!—come!” she whitpardls “Delia is in danger!” And that. was all she said. _ But-it was peng. They noiselessly fol- owed the agitated Mrs. Ashley to the library oor, Meantime, Lady Wood had turned the handle ever so softly, and was listening intently. De- lia was at the long window which gave egress to the gardens. Now she was opening the ‘shutter, as carefully as if life itself depended on it; but despite her greatest effort to unbar the fastening without noise, her fingers trembled too much to SHH Cee that entirely; and under cover of the slight disturbance caused by the opening of the shutter Lady Wood herself {shrouded in the darkness) passed quite into the room, and Lindsay Deane was quick to take up his station next her. Delia bad set down the wax taper she car- ried on the chimney-piece, far from the win- dow, lest the night wind should extinguish it, and the feeble light it diffused through the lofty room was only sufficient to show the movements of the agitated. girl; the further end of the apartment, and all the sides and corners, were in deepest gloom, One terrible thought assailed the four watch- ers—Delia was about to fly with some stranger! Her changed looks, her manifest unhappiness, were too sadly accounted for now. But each _ said the same thing in the silent recesses of the heart—‘‘ We will save her!” Hush! hush! The night wind rushes in as the long glass window yields to Delia’s efforts and a man steps into the room. Hsesard he is, altered even from the man he was when he first came to that same window, bearing with him the wreck of a young life’s happiness. ‘“Delia,” he whispered, in hoarse accents, ‘there is the paper which will tell you where to send all future sums of money.” ‘And here,” gasved Delia, half-dead with fear, ‘‘here are these jewels, in place of the hundred pounds. I tried hard, but Reginald refused me the money. These are worth many bhundred—take them —I can do no more!” “‘Oh, Delia! how shall I change them for money without risk? But thanks—thanks, De- _ fia! Now swear to me that you will continue “to my child the allowance you will secure to me the moment you are of age—swear it, and I will fo and leave you in peace!” ~ Who was this man who exacted such a Sioa ise from the guarded heiress of Larch Abbey? Who was this who addressed her as Delia—for whom she was ready to dare and to sacrifice so ‘much? He looked almost old enough to be her father. Who could he be? _ These auestionings ran swiftly through the “minds of Lady Wood, of Mrs. Ashley and of Lord Lindsay Deane; but the mind of Reginald _ was tossed on a strange, wild sea of doubt. He thought he guessed who this man was; and yet —and yet he had been told a deceitful tale if his surmises were true! - Delia’s trembling lips gave the required prom- “Now I shall leave you forever! Think sometimes of your wretched, exiled brother, Oh! if my father could see me now, here in the old place, which 1 have only dared to enter in secret, from whence I go out a lonely, banished man! “ Hush!—you will be discovered! Was that a noise?” panted Delia. ‘“No, no! There is only the night-wind to witness the last parting between an only sister and a brother supposed to have been eight years in his lonely grave. Let Reginald. die without the knowledge that Iam alive, I charge you, Delia! Now Iam gone!” But, as he turned to go, a woman stood be- tween him and the way of exit, while Lord Lindsay (for Reginald seemed paralyzed) quick- ly seized the intruder, who, struck dumb by this unexpected presence of witnesses, was powerless. As for Delia, slie uttered one faint exclamation, and sunk upon” chair. ‘* And. now. may I ask you, sir,” exclaimed Lady Wood, towering in fine scorn before the man, “‘ may I ask you who I am? J nave heard, we have all heard, whom you profess to be— Mr. James Larch, who died many years since.” The man was speechless. ‘“ Who am I, sir?’ repeated Lady Wood, in severe tones, ‘“Aunt,” said Reginald, hoarsely, ‘‘he—he has proved to me who he is—my brother James! But he has cruelly deceived me. He urged me not to let Delia know of his existence, that he might not blight her happiness.” “Oh, that was what he impressed on me with regard to you, dear Reggy,” exclaimed Delia. ‘Dear aunt! Mrs. Ashley! Lord Lind- say! be silent about this secret which you have surprised, for this man is my brother, though he dares not openly avow it, for—for he has of- fended against the law!’ ‘*T must éxpress my astonishment,” continued Lady Wood, withthe. same scorn as before, ‘that Mr, James Larch should not remember his old aunt Julia! Surely, sir, you can recall the name of Featherly? If you are James Larch, you will remember featherly Hall, and your cousins and myself; who welcomed you there so often.” “Oh, aunt Julia, I do—I do remember!” ex- claimed theintruder. ‘But nineteen. years is along time. I may be pardoned a momentary forgetfulness.” ° “That is true,” she answered. ‘ff you re- member theold times, you havea better chance of making me believe your identity. Are you in trouble, then? But ama. woman of expe- dients. I will keep you safe at Featherly Hall. My nephew James shall besafe as long as I live to protect him.” “Aunt Julia, you are too good to me!” mur- mured the man, of whom Lindsay now relaxed his hold, But neither the latter, nor Reginald, nor Mrs. Ashley, nor Delia, had ever heard of a Feather- ly Hall before, and they knew that no Mrs. Featherly was aunt to the Larch family, and that the lady who now called herself so was certainly Lady Wood, and that her Christian name was Mary, not Julia. Thus it flashed upon them all that she was testing the veracity of the intruder. ‘Well, now let me inform you, my unknown nephew, that there is no such place as Feather- ly Hall; that you never saw me befcre, nor I ourself; that if you had been the veritable ames Larch, I shou!d instantly bave recognized you, notwithstanding the lapse of years—(not so long a space as you suppose, though)--for he and I met in New York the very year he died. You are not of my nephew’s build, sir; and his old nurse, Deborah, and the elderly vicar of this parish, and the head gardener will testify to your imposture as well as I! We shall bave numerous witnesses. You are doubtless a very clever rogue to have imposed on my real nephew and niece, and the means you have used for that p e we shall see presently.” “What!” crie while the light of his former self flashed back again. ‘Have Delia and I been deceived? Is this man nuthing to us? Oh, he has told us a specious tale! He brought me letters, old Jet- ters of my father’s, old letters of yours, also, aunt Mary. And hesaid that he had committed forgery, and stabbed a man, and so was glad to let the world believe him dead, for that he was stung. by remorse, dishonored, and in the power of the law. And I—I was mad with griet, for this is what has separated me from ay! Could I let her wed the brother of a criminal, one who might stand in a felon’s dock any day if discovered?” a Oh, Reginald,” faltered Delia, the life-blood James Larch in America. Reginald, raising his head, |. rushing back to her heart, ‘‘you and I have been deceived in precisely the same manner.” ‘“‘My dear, unhappy children!” cried Lady Wood. J The late Mr. James Larch, utterly cowed and crestfallen, could not ejaculate one word in his own defense. Reginald, restored to himself, quietly took Lindsay’s place by the impostor, and then the young nobleman hastened to Delia’s side. ink this cruel story influenced you in send- ing me from‘ you?’ he whispered. ~ ‘‘Is it this which has made you reason as Reginald did?” ‘I believed myself the sister of a felon, you know,” she whispered back again, as she yield- ed her fingers to his clasp. “ Well,” continued dy Wood, turnin again to the wretched man, ‘‘f think you wil be puzzled, clever rogue as you are, to answer some questions which will shortly be put to you in a court of justice. We will see that you do answer them, or receive the. reward you merit,” ; ‘Stay, madam,” cried he. ‘I have a young daughter, Have some pity for my child, She is but fifteen. I sent her to negotiate with Mr. Reginald Larch, She personated his young, and friendless niece.” Delia gave a start of joyful surprise, for all was explained now, ‘‘ She bore my credentials to him, and he sup- poser me abroad, for I preferred to deal. with he young lady personally, as likely to be more credulous than her brother. His supposed ‘niece, who had been born abroad, and had. but just arrived in England, whither | had sent: her asa last hope to appeal for funds to my only brother, could not. be questioned about things she remembered, for, you see, she could not be expected to know anything about them. . Well, Tam a rogue, itis true: but Iam also a father, Spare me, let me. go free this night for my young daughter’s sake!” : ‘“‘ How did you get the letters belonging to my late brother?” asked Reginald, sternly. IB “Well, I was often employed by the.real Mr. You see that J-am an educated man, gone to the bad; but Lam no man-slayer, as I pretended to be, for my own purposes. That J put in to furnish a motive for refusing to claim « large property. I intended, and nearly succeeded, tvo, in getting a provision from both parties interested; but my own reck- Jessness, or rather want of funds to fly on a sud- den emergency, has provided for me ina way I did not anticipate. ; ““Well, I wassaying that I was an educated man. Mr. Larch was fond of talking about bis old home in England, and I, who never let an opportunity ship, questioned him carefully, at first merely with the intention of calling on his rich relatives in England as a friend, per- pt | the gentleman, and making what could of it, as chance might direct, if cireum- stances brought me to this country. After- ward, when he died so unexpectedly, ard when Tread, years after, in the English papers of the death of his father, this scheme matured itself, slowly indeed, but I acted on it at last. You see, I knew that his rich heiress-sister, and: his penalty wealthy young brother, bad never seen enoug’ the letters. Poor Mr. Larch had charged me often to let his family have his. papers in case he died out in the Far West: and I secured them, in the first place, with the intention of using them asa valuable introduction; but lam a dilatory man, and then this scheme dawne upon me. Ihave told you all, now!” And, as he ended, in one moment, by a sharp turn, he had opened the window behind bim, and stumbled out into the night. They pur- sued, but the darkvess aided the pursued one, san after a fruitless chase they gave up the ef- ort. ‘‘You should inform the police authorities,” said Lord Lindsay, as the two young men re- turned to the (wll ; ‘Oh, Lindsay,” exclaimed Reginald, linking his arm in that of his friend, ‘‘1 am like a new man. Don’t think I can sleep here to-night. Come; I shall rouse up a groom and ride till dawn; for, till I have seen Fay, I can neither rest'nor sleep. So you will send to the police station for me; eh, old fellow?” The two young men entered the stables toge- ther, roused up the groom, and soon afterward Reginald Larch went riding through the winter night to Sir Crofton Earle’s. say th iit The servant, who was first awake at Sir Crof- ton’s Manor House, was amazed to see youn Mr. Larch ride into the stable-yard. — ight “glad was he to seek the ample kitchen and warm himself by the fire, and from that stand- of him to remember bim, aud J had got. -
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int he sent up a message to Miss. Favorette arle, that he had ridden all night to see her. “Mr. Larch, did yousay?” asked Fay, faintly. “Yes, Miss Fay;.and he does look so tired, oud so happy.” with new life, sprung up, and was soon a attired, and long before Sir Crofton Earle (who ’ had sworn that Reginald should never cross his threshold again, and that he, Sir Crofton, would ruin him)—well, long before the testy baronet came down, or even knew of the turn affairs had taken, Fay and Reginald were laughing together over a comfortable breakfast in Sir Crofton’s dining-room. But this was a good three hours after Regi- nald’s arrival, for Fay’s first meeting with him she had believed lost to her forever was with no laughter, but with the deepest, most pathetic feeling. And Delia? What was she doing at thehour when Fay and Reginald had reached well-as- sured happiness? Surely Delia claims our chief attention, for we have journeyed oftenest in her ee eeLy in the course of this recital. e find her now at the window of a small saloon which overlooks the Abbey i and grounds, with Lindsay by her side,The misty sun bas struggled into cignt persistently through many folds of dark gray’cloud, and as his rays break over the landscape, a sudden glory lights up the scene, . rate & *“See, Lindsay,” rg Delia, speaking very soft and low, “that lovely light through the loom is an emblem of my Lak days of sorrow. ut the night has gone, and happiness has con- Fiered the clouds of grief which hung over me. will forget the bitter past, that dreadful day when I went to London, and all the rest!” “But you will forgive me if Ican never for- get that day,” he says, tenderly, as his arm en- circles her. ‘You must not ask me to forget that enchanting moment when, after all my despair, and I had told you that my heart would b to live without ou, those two sweet words, ‘And mine,’ fell, unconsciously, from your lips.” THE END. The Half-Dime Singer's Library. 1 Wxoa, Exma! and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs, 3 Tae Garnsporo’ Hat and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Morcan and 60 other Songs. 5 (cL Strike You Wirn A FearHer and 62 others, 6 Georce THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. % Tue Bette or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Youne Feiiau, You're Too Fresu and 60 panels: 9 Say Youne Grew and 65 other Songs, 10 I’m THE GoveRNoR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs, 11 My Fan and 65-other Songs. ° 12 Comin’ THRO’ THE RyE and 55 other Songs. 13 Tae Rouiickine IRisHman and 59 other Songs. 14 Op Doe Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Wxoa, Cuaruie and 59 other Songs, 16 In rH1s Wueat By anv By and 62 other Songs. 1” Nancy Ler and 58 other Songs, 18 I'm Tax Boy rHat’s Bounp To BLAze and 57 others, 19 Tax Two OrpHans and 59 other Sdngs. 20 WHaT ARE THE Witp Waves Sayina, Sister? and 59 other Songs. 21 Inviananr Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 2 Tue Op Arm-Cuarr and 58 other Songs, %3 On Cony IsLanp Beacn and 58 other Songs, % Oxp Srmon, THE Hor-Corn Man and 60 others, 25 I’m uy Love and 56 other Songs. 26 PARADE oF THE GuaRDs and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Hrave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 “TWILL NEVER Do To Gis rr ur So and 60 others. 29 BuvE Bonners Over rur Borper and 54 others, 30 ‘Tae Merry Lavenine Man and 56 other Songs, 31 Sweer Forerr-me-Nor and 55 other Songs. 32 Leerie Baby Ming and 53 other Songs. . 33 Dr BANso AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Mx and 88 others. 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 35 Jusr ro PLEASE THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 86 Skarine on ONE IN THE GurreER and 52 others, 87 Kotorrep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 88° Ni DespERANDUM and 53 other Songs. 39 Tar Grew I Lerr Benin Mx and 50 other Songs, 40 "Tis sur a Lirttx Fapep Frowsr and 50 others. 41 Prerry Wareeimia and 60 other Songs. 42 Danomye oy rar Barn and 63 other Songs. 43 H. M.S, PINAFORE, COMPLETE, and 17 other Songs, a peerehere by ogy om ae five- cents r sen’ cid, to any address, on re- ceipt of Six cents le tecaber. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pus.isurrs, 98 Waiiam Street, New York, ?* PURLIN ete L. 13 The Fireside Library. 1 Was Sue His Wir? By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 2 Frermve From Love. y, Eas Irving. 3 Dip He Love Her? By Bartley T. Campbell. 4 A STRANGE WomAN. _ By Rett Winwood. 6 Two Girts’ Lives. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell, 9 Tue War or Hearts. By Corinne Cushman. 11 Tue Fause Wipow. _ By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton. 12-18 Lost ror Love. By Miss M. E. Braddon, 14-15 ToILeRs OF THE SHA. By Victor Hugo. 16 THE QuADROON. By Catharine A. Warfield. 17-18 UNcLE Smas. By J. S. Le Fanu. 19-20 Dmap-Sua Fruit. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 21-22 Lirrin Kare Kirpy. By F. W. Robinson. 23 Sowine THE Winp. By Mrs, Mary Reed Crowell, 24-25 Birps or Prey. By Mrs. M. E. Braddon, 26 THAT Boy or Norcort’s. | By Charles Lever. 27-28 CHARLOTTE’s INHERITANCE. By Miss Braddon. 29 A Grru’s Heart. By Rett Winwood. 30-31 Rup as 4 RosE1s SHE. By Rhoda Broughton. 82 Tae Lity or St; Erne. By Mrs. Crow. 83 STRANGELY WED. ¥ Mrs. sen Davis Burton. 84 Tae Gipsy Brive. M. E. O. Malen. 35 AnNNiz TemPLeE. By Rev. J. H. Ingraham. 36 Wirnout Mercy. By eb T. Campbell. 87 Back Eyvgs AND Buug. By Corinne Cushman, 388 BRAVE Barsarsa. By Corinne Cushman. 89 A DanGErous Woman. By Margaret Blount, 40 Ovrpa’s Love. “By Henrietta E. De Conde 41 Lost: A Wire. Corinne Cushman. 42 Winnine Ways, By Margaret Blount. an. 54 Tum Prive or THE Downes. By Margaret Blount. e m. 56 THe Prerry PuRITAN By Parson’s Daughter. ary Reed Crowell. OUN, THE STRANGE. By Wm. M. Turner, 63 Wirm or Wivow. By Rett. Winwood. 66 Tem TerRIsLe Trorn. By. ennie Davis Burton, Mary Reed Crowell. 71 Tae Parson’s DaventeEr. 4.) Parson’s Daughter tater Cushman. inwood, yy Corinne Cushman. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton. Divorcep But Not Drvipep. A Parson's Daughter. 81 Aumost Marriep, By A Parson’s Daughter, 82 Two Farr Women. By Wm. Mason Turner, M.D. 83 Tue IngERITANCE OF Hate. By Mrs. Burton. 84 PrARL oF Parts. By A. P. Morris, Jr, Others Issued Every Two Weeks. lh sale by ct sepVanbrerwates ne ten pe or Sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents. ‘ie Poe AND ADAMS, Publishers 98 William street, N. Y. The Saturday Journal “The Model Family Paper mee Sines Most Charming of the Weeklies.” sedans ; " Fee Bi brilliant sce Pitiaehte. Pe EB Ie Serials, Tales, Romances, Sketches, Adventures, Biographies, Pungent Essays, Poetry, Notes and Answers to Correspondents, Wit and Fun— All are features in every number, from euch celebrated writers as no paper in America can boast of, What is best in POPULAR READING, that the paper always has; hence for Homn, Snop, Lr- ame sone lain a it is without a val; and hence its great and steadil i — initial: © SATURDAY JOURNAL is sold every where ci Pini eacinaaiel eae gen per number; or to He 3 : rates, a post-pa , at the following cheap our months, one dollar; one year, three dollars; or, two copies, jive dollars, ty Address BEADLE & ADAMS, Pub 98 William Strect, Now Work, VI.—Daniel Boone, BEADLE & ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. ecu kern. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the fol- lowing highly desirable and attractive text-books, prepared oarreney for schools, families, etc. Hach volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type, comprising the best collection of Dia- logues, Dramas, and Recitations, (burlesque, comic and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for the season of 1881—as far as now issued —-embrace twenty-three volumes, Viz, : , 1. American Speaker. | 18. School Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 14. Iudicrous Speaker. 3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 4. Comic Speake. 16, Youth’s Speaker. 5. Elocutionist. 17%. Eloquent Speaker. 6. Humorous Speaker. | 18, Hail Columbia Speak- 7. Standard Speaker, 8, Stump Speaker. ° y a oa? sa er. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker, 20, Select Speaker. . ee is) er. 23, Dialect peaker. These books are replete wit choice pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, etc. are drawn from FRESH sources, and contain some of the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 100 Declama- tions and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. Dialogues No, One. Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No, Four. Dialogues No. Five. Dial No. Six. egues No. Six. Dialogues No, Nineteen. ~* etch a i fer Dialogues = le ai alogues No, ognes No, T) y-O Dialogues No. Nine. Piseenee No, Twenty-two. Dialogues No. Ten. ~ Dialogues No. Twenty-t These volumes have been pre with es' reference to their av all school-rooms. They are adapted to schools with or without the fur- niture of a stage, and introduce a range of charac- ters suited to scholars of every e, both male and female. It is fair to assume that no volumes yet oO to schools, at any price, contain so many gealone sn useful dialogues and dramas, serious and comic. ‘ Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 2 Cents, For Schools, Pario s, Entertainments and the Am- ateur Stage, mig, oom > Original Minor Dramas, Comedy, Farce, Diess Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitations and Readings, new cnd standard, of her greateet celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof, A. M. Ru: S DIME HAND-BOOKS, Young People’s Series. Brapiz’s Dive Hanp-Booxs ror Youxe Propur cover a wide range of subjects, and are espe adapted to their end. They constitute at once the cheapest and most useful works yet put into the market for popular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Book of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. ortuve-Teller. Book of Etiquette. vers’ Casket. Book of Verses. Ball-room Companion. Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty, Hand-Books of Games. Brapix’s Drum Hanp-Books or Games AND PopuLaR Hanv-Books cover a variety of subjects, and are es- pecially adapted to their end. andbook of Summer Sports Book of Croquet. Yachting and Rowing. Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving. Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrianism. Guide to Swimming. Base-Ball Player. Handbook of Winter Sports. Manuals for Housewives. | Beapix’s Dime Famity Srrims aims to supply class of text-books and manuals fitted for ever per- son’s use—the old and the young, the learned and the unlearned. They are of conceded value. 2 Recipe Book 6 Dresssnalng ‘cod Jaci. 3. Hoveckeepera Guide. linery. Lives of Great Americans Are presented complete and authentic biographies: of many of the men who have added Just, Republic by their lives and deeds, The teyee ee. braces I.—George Washington. | VIT.—Davij 4 T.—Jobp Paul Jones, VIL =tersal Pateasee Ti.—Mad AnthonyWayne| IX’—Kit Carson, IV.—Ethan Allen. X.—Tecumseh, V.—Marquis de Lafay- XI,—Abraham Lincoln, . e -—Pontiac. XII.—Ulysses 8. Grant. The above publications for sale by all newsdealers: or will be sent. post-paid, on receipt of ri ; BEADLE & ADAMS, 6 Wrauzaw 81, No yPC PY
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“A FIRST-CLASS FAMILY PAPER AND MODEL WEEKLY.” eee . \ SQ SY NIQUE eo W Some Week } UNRIVALED AMONG POPULAR PAPERS In the good repute of its large eorps of Contributors; In the variety, scope and interest of its contents; i In the beauty of illustration, typography and order of its ““make-up,” A FIRST-CLASS POPULAR WEEKLY, aiming at what is Bust, Fresumst anD Most, Atrractrve in Fiction, Romance and Novel—in Sketch, Story, and Narrative—in Adventure on Sea and Land—in City Life Revelations—in History, Biography and Events—~ in Wit and Hanan —in Poetry and Essay—in. the Useful and. Practical—in Answers to Correspondents, Topics of the Times Editorals, etc., etc., etc, ~ ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE AND ‘AMUSING, it meets the tastes, wants and demands of old él young alike, and. is the Congeniai Companion, the Welcome Guest at Firesides, in. Houses, Shops and Offices IV ALL PARTS OF THE, UNION! No paper now published in this country having a wider circulation, and none being received with so much favor by that ‘class of people who are solicitous’ that. what they read al be both pure and good. The corps of regular contributors embraces the. following MOST POPULAR LIVING AMERICAN WRITERS: ALBERT W. AIKEN, CAPT: MAYNE REID, PHILIP 8. WARNE, MRS. MARY REED CROWELL, EBEN E. REXFORD, ; BRACEBRIDGE H@MYNG (Jack Aarke OLL COOMES, - MATTIE DYER BRITTS, away,”) CORINNE CUSHMAN, C. D. CLARK, EDWARD L. WHEELER, JOSEPH E. BADGER, Jr; COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, GARRY GAINES, - MRS. JENNIE DAVIS BURTON, HON WM. -¥. CODY (“ Buffalo Bill,”) CAPT. CHARLES HOWARD, CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER, T. C. HARBAUGH, A. W. BELLAW, LUCILLE HOLLIS, RETT WINWOOD, MARY GRACE HALPINE, CHARLES MORRIS, MAJOR SAM 8. HALL (‘Buckskin Sam,”) _ - FRANK DAVES, ROGER STARBUCK, CAPT. SATTERLEE PLUMMER, AS WELL AS THE INIMITABLE WITS AND HUMORISTS, WASHINGTON WHITEHORN, JOE JOT, Jr., and BEAT TIME. AND THE SPARKLING ESSAYISTS AND PEN-PREACHERS, THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER and EVE LAWLESS, all of whom.,cater emclusively for the Sarurpay JourRNAL, while in its department of ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS, those who are conversant with such literature pronounce it the best and most interesting column of the day. ‘Taken all in «il the SarurDay JouRiAL is the Journal Par Excellence for the Lovers of a Wholesome Popular Literature, And those seeking for what is best and most enjoyable in that lino should become its readers. The Saturday Journal is Published Weekly at the Following Rates: for Four Months. ,................ gles ogte tT Neer $1.00 Two Copies for One Year.........0s60000604. PEEL $5.00. For One Year............. 5 Sagpage ein aR EE a ite oe 3.00 Single Copies..............s006+ whale ide wale’ 6 cents” BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORE, ?
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THE POPULAR AND School, Exhibition and i ) WEBSTER, CHOATE, EVERETT, ADAMB, BEECHER, DEWEY, TALMAGR, CHAPIN, LONGFEL.LOW, WHITER, READE, STORY, DICKINSON, KENT, SEWARD, BRET HARTE, CARL PRETZEL, . _ JOHN HAY, BILLINGS, || BRYANT: STREET, \ WALLAOK, HOLMES, HAMILTON, RANDOLPH, MADISON, __ WINTEROP, REY. JOS. COOK, CUYLER, DURYEA, WAYLAND, MAX ADELER, MARK TWAIN, OOFTY GOOFT, DOESTICKS, CARLYLE, MACAULAY, WILBERFORCE, PITT, SHAKSPEARE, MILTON, BYRON, BURNS, S. B. REXFORD, BF TAYLOR, STODDARD, ALDRICH, |) Wu caRreron, ; Dimr DiaLocurs NumBer Two. _—. Sad gla eee SPEAKERS # DIALOGUES. THE MOST 4 pop aTIVE SERIE, gost AVATABLE, ADsppyp,, yp TABING COLL ENG —or— Declamations, Farces, Recitations, Notable Passages, Dialogues, Minor Dramas, Speeches. Extempore Efforts, Colloquies, Acting Charades, Orations, Addresses, | : Burlesques, Dress Pieces, IN’ ALL THE BIELDS OF Wit, Humor, Burlesque, Satire, Eloquence and Argument, es Schools, Exhibitions ?Amateur Theatricals. | THE DIME, SPEAKERS... 1—Dime AMERICAN SPEAKER, 2—Dime NATIONAL SpPRAKER: 8—Dime Patriotic SPEAKER, 4—Dime Comic SPEAKER. 5—Dimg, ELocurTionist. 6—Dimze Humorous SPEAKER. 7—Dimre STANDARD SPEAKER, 8—Dime Stump SPRAKER, Dime JUVENILE SPEAKER. 10—Dime SpREAD-EacGLE SPEAKER. U—Diae DepaTeR anp CHAIRMAN’s GUIDE. -12—Dmom Exnrerrion Sprakr, 13—Dime ScHoot SPRAKER. 14—Dime Lupicrovus SPEAKER. 15—K ar PRETZEL’s KoMIKAL SPEAKER, 16—Dime YoutnH’s SPEAKER. 17—Dive. ELOQUENT SPEAKER. 18—-Dinm: Harm CoLumBia SPEAKER, 19—Dime SERIO-Comic SPEAKER, 20—Dmr SELECT SPEAKER, 21—Dime Funny SPEAKER, _ 22—Diue JoLLy SPEAKER, ; 23—DimMe DIALECT SPEAKER. Each Speaker, iC0 pages 12mo., containing from 50 to 75 pieces. THE DIME DIALOGUES Are filled with original and specially prepared contrivutions from favorite and popular caterers for the amateur and School Stage—giving more talsing and effective dialogues, burlesques, social comedies, domestic farces, exquisite dress and exhibition dramas any other collection ever offered. Dime DranocuErs NumpBer Onn. Die DraLtocurs NomBer Fourtren. Drm Dratocurs NUMBER Frrrern. Dime Dranocurs NuMBER SExTEEN, es” “ig pa NUMBER SEVENTEEN, 0. 6 Dime: DiaLocurs NuMBER EIGHTEEN, Dime DiALoGuEs NUMBER NINETEEN. DimE DiaLocurs NuMBER TWENTY. DimE DiaLtocurs NuMBER TWENTY-ONE. Dre DiaLogurs NumBer TwEnty-Two. Dime DiaLocurs NuMBER TWENTY-THREE. Dimz DiaLogurs NuMBER TWELVE. Dime DiaLocurs NuMBER TWENTY-FOUR. Dime DiaLocurs NumBer THIRTEEN. Dime Diatocurs Numper TWENTY-FIVE, Each volume, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 15 to 25 pieces, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y.. Diaz DiaLocurs Numper TuReE. Dime DiaLocurs Numsrr Four, Dime DtaLocurs NumpBer Five. Dimg DiALoaguEs. NuMBER Srx, Dimg DiaLogurs Numper SEVEN, Dime DiaLtocurs NumBer Erenrt, Dims DraLtocurs NuMBER NInz, Dime Dratocures Numser TEN. Dimer DraLocurs NuMBER ELEVEN. DR. CROSBY, WHITEHORN, SPRAGUE, PIERPONT, FAT CONTRIBUTOR, | MAGOON, DUGANNE, PERCIVAL, DANBURY NEWS, REV. DR. HALL, LOWELL, DANA, DETROIT FREE PRESS, SCUDDER, BAYARD TAYLOR, JOHN NEAL, HAWKEYE, DOANE, : POE, ©SGoop, BEN ZEEN, BELLOWS, %. BE HALE, SAXR, STANDARD BOOKS Home Entertainment. PARTON, PHILLIPS, SARGEANT, MASON, LINCOLN, WASHINGTON, DICKENS; . SIDNEY SMITH, TOM HOOD, JURROLD, SUMNER, HOLT, ‘WILSON, JOHNSON, SIMPSON, . PARKER, COLLYER, WILLETTE, ANNA DICKINSON, MRS, VICTOR, THE CARYS, FANNY FERK, GREELEY, EVARTS, SCHURZ, CURTIS. BISHOP WHIPPLE, REV. DR. WOOD,
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30 The Bou -FIRESIDE- LIBRARY -|—_—_- Each issue a.complete novel and’sold at the uniform price of TEN CENTS. No double price numbers, 1 Was Saez His Wire? Mrs. Mary R. Crowell 20c | 52.4 Romance or a Poor Youne Gir. Ellet. 10c 2 Fureinc From Love. By Harriet Irving... 10c 8 Dip HE Love Hex Bartley uF Campbell.. 10e 4A Sresnge WoMAN. By Rett Winwood... 10c « Two Giris’ Lrves. By Mrs. M. R. Crowell. 10c 9 THe Wark or Hearts. Corinne Cushman,. 10c 11 THe Fase Wipow. Mrs. J. D. Burton. ... 10c 12-13 Lost ror Love. Miss M. E. Braddon.... 10c 14-15 Tormers of THE Sma. By Victor Hugo... 10c 16 Tae QcapRoon. By Catharine A Warfield. 10¢c | 60 Bruxy 17-18 Uncie Smuas. By J. S. Le Fanu Pre a 19-20 Deap-SEA Frurr. Miss M. BE. Braddon... 10c 21-22 Larrte Kate Kirpy. F. W. Robinson... 10c 23 Sow1ine THE Winp. Mrs. M R. Crowell.. 10e 24-25 Birps or Prey. Miss M.) E. Braddon... ,10c 26 Tuat Boy of Norcort’s. Charles Lever... 10¢ 27-28 CHARLOTTE’s INHERITANCE. By Braddon, 10¢ 29-A Grru’s Heart. By Rett Winwood ~- 10c 30-31 Rep As A Rosk 1s Sane Rhoda Broughton. 10e $2 Tue Liy or St. Erne, By Mrs. Crow .... 10¢ 33 STRANGELY WepD. By Mrs. di D. . Burton... . 10¢ 88 Brave/\BArBARA, By Corinne Cushman .. 10c 39 A DanGrrous Woman. Margaret Blount.. 10c 40-Ouma’s Love. By Henrietta E. DeConde.. 10c 1 Lost: A Wire. Corinne Cushman .... 10c ~ C. M. Braeme. 1 ‘Wowman’s Hanp. By author ‘ ee Letter.’ 10¢ on ae R. Crowell, 10¢ A Wr Grr. By Corinne hman,. . . 10c “Tax MaDpest MARRIAGE Ever WAs. Burton. 10¢ Love vA Maze. By Mrs. E. F, Ellet..,.... 10c By Dr. J. H. Robinson...: ... 10¢ SSSeSsaR eR" 83 Tae InnERITANCE oe 53 Tue Lockep Heart. By Corinne Cushman. We 54.THE PRIDE oF THE DOWNES. 3 M. Blount 10¢ | | 90 For A Woman’s SAKE. 55 A Srranege Girt. By Albert Aiken, ... 10c 56 THe Prerry Puritan. By A Parson’s PPRUGHLON Ts... ese. sts tees lad oe 1 57 Dip SHE Sin?_ By M Reed Crowell . 10¢ 58 Dousty Divorcep. By Jenny Davis Burton. 10c 59 A. WIcKED WomMAN, By. Lillie D. U. Blake. 10c Barpara’s Secret. Mary Halpine.. 10c 61 Aw AMERICAN QuEEN. By Gracé Mortimer, 10c 62 MARGOUN, THE STRANGE. By W. M. Turner. 10c 63 Wire on Winow. By Rett Winwood 10c 64 THe CREOLE CousINs. ee §.Warne. 10c 65 PuRSUED To THE ALTAR. By Cushman: 10c 66 THE TERRIBLE pa y iaip SW Burton, 10c §7 ELegant EapErt. hilip S. Warne ... 10c 68 Lapy HELxn’s Vow. "By Mrs. E. F, Eliet... 10c 08 Bowtk, Tae KnicHT oF CuivaLny, Warne. 10c 70 Drirrine To Ruin. By Mary Reed Crowell. 10c 71 Tae Parson’s Daventer. By A Parson’s Daughter. .... 72 Tue Mysterious GuaRDIAN. By Cushman. 10¢ 73 Was SHE a Wire. By Rett Winwood...... 10e 74 ADRIA, THE ADoprED, By Jennie’D. Burton. 10c 7 PRETTY AND PRovp. By Corinne Cushman. 10c %6 Tus. Birrer Fevp. By Jennie D. Burton.. 10e 77 A WomAn’s Work. By Mrs. £. F. Eliett... 10c 78 Tur Buack Ripix. By Corirme Cushman. 10c 79 CorRAL AND Rusy. By Jennie Davis Burton. 10c 80 Divorcep Bur Nor Drviwep. By A Parson’s ‘Daughter. . ot ALMOST MagrIEp, By A Parson’ 8 Daughter. 10c Two Farr Women, Wm. M. acer. . 10¢e TE, B : 10e 84 Peart oF Pearts. By A. P. Mo “ag 1Uc 85 For Honor’s SAKE. Pllnigidpos ts: 2 rowell. 10e 86 Lance UrquHarT’s Loves. Annie Thomas, 10c 87 SareLy Marrizp. By author of “Caste.” 10¢ * 88 FLORETTE. By Col. Prentiss I, pein 10c 89 THREE TIMES Deap. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 10¢ By Watts Phillips. 7 191 ‘He Comer Nor,’ Sap.Sarp, By Thomas, 10c 92 THe NEw Magpaten. By Wilkie Collins. 10¢ 0c | 93 AN OPEN VerpIcT. By Miss M.E. Braddon. 10¢ 94 SworD AND Gown. yy Geo. A. Lawrence. 10c 95 A BEGGAR ON HorsepacK. By James Payne. 10¢ 96 Her Face Was Her Fortune. By Robinson. 10¢ 97 Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bronte. ........ 10c 98 WRECKED IN Port. By Edmund Yates... 10c 99 THe CoLLEEN Bawn. by Gerald Griffin... 10¢ 100 An AMBITIOUS GIRL; or, She Would Be an Actress. By A Celebrated Actress... ..... 1 101° Foun. Pray. Charles Reade aiken Boucicault. ges 102 Carita. By Mrs. Oliphant. PR. Fee ie | oa 103 A Woman Harer. By Charles Reade. 10¢ 104 Arrer Dark. By Wilkie Collings i ais.+5%, 10c 105 Harp — Be Charles Dickens a 106 Grir, By B. L. Farjeon.. 107 FENTON’ food By Miss Braddon........ 108 Turee Featuers. By W. Black........... 109 Joun Hauirax, noe age Miss Mulock, ibe 110 Murpuy’s Masrer. Pye. Wy. PAR <5 faeces 10c 111 Heaps or Money. By W. E. Norris...... 10¢ 112 In Morvan Pert. By Mary R. 2 haat 10e 113 Tae Dmeap Srcret. By W. Collins.... 10¢ 116 Too Soon. By Katherine 8. Ready October 18th ..5. .. . 4.4; 117 Tae Two Pane By Wilkie Collins, Ready October 20th. For sale by al! newsdealers, or sent, paid, on reeeipt of twelve cents. "BEAD ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, N, Y, The Only Young Ladies’ Library of First-Class Copyright Novels Published. Price, Five Cents, i The SineKed Bride; or, Wai Sue Maa- ry Hm. a Crowell. 2 Was it Lovet ef LLEGIANS fe Geert HEARTS, 3 The Girt Ww Wite. by Bat *partieg Gamipbell 4 A Brave Heart. B Southworth. 5 Bessie Raynor, Ythe Work Girl. By Wm. Mason Turner, M.D: 6 The Secret Marriage. By Sara Claxton. TA ans cia ig of Eve; or, Bioypep By Love. By Mrs,,Mary Reed Crowell. 8 Freare to Hearts or, Farr PHYLLIS’ Love, By Arabella Southworth. 9 Alone in the World; or, THz Youne Man’s Warp. By the author of’ “ Clifton,” 10 A Pair of sa | Eyes; or, THz Emer- ALD Neckuace. By Rose Kennedy. bf extangied. By Henrietta Thackeray. 12 His Bewrnt Wife; or, gre or ADOPTI By Mrs. Ann 8. § teMeah 13 Madcap, . the Ypittle Quakeress. By Corinne a4 Bad Lu I Married mg or, THe Woman x. By Sara 15 » Fair Face} or, Our’ IN THE WoRLD. B sap ae T. Cam bell. 16 Tr er No or, Tut Troe Knicur. t.Leic 17 = 4 Loyal Lover. By A. Southworth. 18 His I lols or, THE ILt-STaARRED MARRIAG! Mrs. M Reed By Crowell. 19 The Broker Betrothals; or, Love vur- sus Haty. By M Grace Halpine. 20 Orphan Nell, the Orange Girt; or, Tak WITCHES OF fae York. le Penne. 2k Now and Forever; o HY Dip SHE Marry Him. By Henrietta Thackeray. 22 Whe ‘Bride of an Actor, By the author of “Alone in the World,” ete., ete. 23° mag Year}; or, Wxy Sur’ Prorosep. By Sara n. 24 Wer Face Was Her Fortune. By Eleanor Blaine. 25 — a Schoolmistress or, Her Un- oy ag By Arabella Southworth, 26 Without a Heart. By P. Ingraham, 2% cat She a Coanertet or, A STRANGE TsHIP. By Henrietta Thackeray. 28 ‘Sybil Chase: or, THE GamBLER’s WIFE. Mrs. Ann 8, Stephens. 29 For Her Dear Sake. By Sara Claxton. uet aes 2 or, A MILLION: OF Money. By le Penne. 31 A Mad ae ape By Mary A. Denison. 82 alcay toon Bree Donna: or, RosEs gs AND LILIES, By_A. Southworth. 33 The Three Sisters. By Alice Fleming, 34 A Marriage of Convenience: or, Was He A Count? By Sara Claxton. 35 Sinned Against.By Clara A 36 Sir Archer’s Bride. By A. mahwortid 37 The Country Cousin. Rose micas 38 His Own Again. Arabella Southwo 39 Flirtation. By Ralph Royal. 40 Pledged to Marry. By Sara Claxton, 41 Blind Devotion. By Alice Fleming. 42 ee the Beautiful; or, His Sxo- OND LOVE, By A. Southworth. 43 The Baronet’s Secret Sara Claxton. 44 The Only Daughter: or, Brotaer AGAinst Lover. By Alice Flemi 45 Wer Hidden Foe. Arabella outhworth. 46 The Little Heiress. aun 6 A. Denison. 47 Because She Loved im; or, How Wu ir Env. By Alice Wigaing:. 48 In Spite of Herself. By S. Sherwood. 49 His gh Mistress; or, Love ar First Sieut. Arabella Southworth. 50 The Cuban Heiress “i Tur PRISONER or LA Vintresse. By A. Denison. 51 Two ost Girls 5 of, ‘HE BRIDE oF AN Earu. By Alice 52 The Winged Wkessonger’s or, Riskina AL For A HEART. he Acts Reed SP te ina 53 Agnes Hope, the Actress} or, Tar Ro- MANGE OF A Rusy Rune. _W. M. er, M. D. eer Heart; or, Savep ge Streer. By George 8, Seek. 55 She Dia Not hove Him to Conquer, By Arabella Sou 56 ‘Love-Mad 5 or, BETROTHED, ~, Sagara: DrvorcED AND ——. _ By W. M. Turner, M. D: 57 A Brave Girl. By "alice Fleming. 68 The Ebon Mask. Mary’R. Crowell. 59 A Widow?s rose. el Bernhardt, 60 Cecil’s Deceit. By Jennie Davis Burton. 61 A Wicked Heart. By Sara Claxton. 62 The Maniae Bride. By M. Blount. 63 The Creole Sisters. By Anna E. Porter, 64 What ee a Did; or, Tue Hem or Worstry GRANGE. ey Fleming. 65 The Wife's ics, By Col. Juan Lewis 66 A Brother’s Sin. By Rachel Bernhardt. 67 Forbidden Bans. Arabella Southworth, 68 Weavers and Weft. By M. E. Braddon, 69 Pg ay or, THe Fare or A Coquerts, By Alex Dumas. 70 The Two Orphans. Py D’Ennery, 71 My Young Wite, By My Young Wife’s Husband. 72 Khe Two Widows, By Annic Thomas, 73 Howe Michels or, Tar Trrats of A FA y Gir, By *Maude Hilton. 74 ‘Geel Castlemaine’s Gage. By Ouida, 75 Whe Black Lady of Duma. By J.S, Le Fanu. 76 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Rowson. 77 Christian Oakley’s Mistake: By the author of ‘‘ John Halifax, Gentleman.” 78 Mily Young Husband. By Myself. 79 A Queen Amongst Women. By the author of “ Dora Thorne.” 80 mes ore and Master. By Florence at. 81 Lucy Temple. 82.A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred. 83 Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thom 84 The ‘Laure! Bush. By the author of ** John Halifax, Gentleman.” 85 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. 86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot, 87 Romance of a Poor Young Man, By Octave Feuillet. 88 A Terrible Deed; or, ALL ror Gorn, By Emma Garrison Jones. 89 A Gilded Sin. 90 The Author’s Daughter, Howitt. 91 The Jilt. By Charles Reade, 92 Eileen Alanna}; or, Taz DAWNING OF THE Day. By Dennis O'Sullivan, 93 Love’s Victory. By B. L. Farjeon. 94 The Quiet Heart. By Mrs. Oliphant. 95 Lettice Arnold. By Mrs. Marsh, 96 Haunted Hearts; on ae bi Broxen Bu- TROTHAL, By Rachel Bernh 97 Hugh Melten. By aa King. 98 Alice Learmont. By Miss Mulock. 99 Marjorie Bruce’s Lover. By Mary Patrick. Ready October 4th. ° 100 porcneh Fire and Water, By Frederick Talbot, Ieeady October lith, ~ 101 Hannah, By Miss Mulock. October 18, A new tssue every week. Tre Wavertey Lisrary is for sale b Newan five cents per co or py) Or et aie coe pe Ys ao ie by BEADLE AND ree Publisbona, 98 William street, New Yar. By Mary - oe = , ee eee i