Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (v. 1) (1879 11 18)
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tT °C aE ; *eeeeerese eee eee ees RAVE | ———. 7 " Wiper N\\// A | HN Zee «, aN Ti = ez «att i H ies = 7 wi $2.50 a year. No. 1 Vor. The Only First-class American Copyright Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. Published! Price, 5 Cents. Library aS) rm ose eeee et * © peeve Copyrighted in 1879 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, —.—_— \WL Swe AM Wa IS NZ i Xi en ay y \ ri i AAAI RAN oe Wii int i) j , mn } By | | LA, + Tho Masked Bre; op Wil She May Hin? ; . BY MRS. MARY REED CROWELL, 4 Author of ‘Vials of Wrath,” “ Did She Sin,” “Sowing the Wind,” etc. . CHAPTER I. | . THE FIRST TOKEN OF THE STORM. ant tints of an autumn sunset were streaming brightly at Edenwilde, lighting up with, richly-warm glories. the oud ¥, sy | } J * ¥ . 4 : J ‘ q - | : Hf) oe Tees Glew | FF : “ “BEFORE HIGH HEAVEN I SWEAR YOU SHALL NEVER STAND AT THE ALTAR AS BERTRAND HAIGHTE’S WIFE!” Z UZ Gy tg “Bsdbiididit ab spacious mansion, whose many windows caught the sunlight, reflecting it again in a blaze of molten goldenness. Far off, to the west, the Hudson river was sweeping by, a veritable belt of flame, under that orange sky; eastward, skirting the rear of Edenwilde, were the solemn Highlands, crowned with their glowing, frost-touched jewels , Before the front piazza, all white pillared and floored, and from whence Crystel Roscoe was watching the lights and shadows as they flickered and swayed on the close-cut, velvety greensward, stretched the large lawn, adorned by far-spreading trees, and low, bushy shrubs, with here and there a gleaming marble \Ceres or Diana, and a dainty ~ cee is r
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rs . Niobe, all a-sprinkled from: the spray of the shelled fountain, that tinkled and showered over the bright green mosses and pink-lipped sea-shells. It was a vast, glorious inheritance, this that belonged to the proud, wealthy Roscoes for “many a past generation, and fair Crystel Ros- coe, while gazing upon the beauties of the old ancestral home, felt her heart beat anew, as she ‘remembered she was a Roscoe. And a fit representative she was; with her aristocratic beauty of face and form, no less than of mind and heart. As she sat thus, her white dress lying in thi graceful negligence around her, and a scai silken shawl thrown over one shoulder, b beautiful dark-brown eyes restingin admiratic on the fair landscape, you would have stoppec to gaze again at the satin-brown ripple or wave to marits ivory smoothness; at the earnest, honest, withal haughty eyes, that held the true Roscoe self-importance. She was fair, and noble, and brave, and true, and all this nobility she had promised to Ber- if trand Haighte, whose Tower walls rose grim cand gray, ie over the sunny-bosomed river. % Bertrand Haighte! it was he of whom she “was thinking, as she mutely caressed the be- ‘trothal-ring on her dainty finger; dreaming of the blissful days they had spent since he had ~won her, while the spring green was just bloom- ‘ ing; wondering if the future cou/d hold more of joy than the past; and trying to iene if Mrs. Haighte, of The Towers, would be less happy ' than the angels. ; Her sweet thoughts were bringing a scarlet bloom to her pale cheeks—Crystel was white and colorless as the Psyche over her toilet bu- reau; a clear, cold, elegant fairness, a birth- _ right to the Roscoes—and she started suddenly as the distinct sounds of a galloping horse’s feet | -* ° game echoing up the entrance avenue from the the road. She thought it might be Bertrand, and she sprung to her feet, the light of love’s | “welcoming in her eyes, . It was not Bertrand, nor was it any one Crys- A tel had ever seen before; and she stood aston- _ ished to see thestranger riding up to the foot of the high marble flight of steps. It was a woman—or rather a girl, of nineteen or twenty, perhaps. A dark, magnificent x “woman, whose midnight hair hung to her waist | in a succession of loose, heavy curls. Her eyes were large, ete ed in their expres- ph sion, and dark as a thunder-cloud; and some- : how, as Crystel stood watching the am deg dis- mount, her scarlet shawl flung gracefully over her shoulder, her slight form drawn up in sur- | prise, she associated those wondrous, flashing ae eyes, as, for a moment, they full on her, with a lightning-charged storm-cloud, which, at 4 a moment’s warning, would spread instant des- i olation around. She thought that, then forgot it in her sur- rise. ss Very self-possessed the stranger ascended the steps, and bowed to Crystel. i ‘This is Miss Roscoe, I think?’ “Tam Miss Crystel. My sister is not at home.” ** Miss CrystelI wish tosee. I wasnot aware there was an elder child.” Sy She paused and looked keenly at Crystel, who, insher most frigid tones, addressed her: “Tecan not imagine what you wish of either - Hellice—Miss Roscoe—or myself.” _ The lady drew near her, and fixed her flash- ; ing eyes upon her, p ‘T am as well aware as yourself that you con- sider me an intruder; perhaps I am; perhaps you will regard me your best friend cne day, F strange as my introduction to you is. I came to see you, Miss Crystel, on solemnly impor- tant business. May I ask you to invite me within?” ' She spoke with a coprtly grace that denoted her refinement and education; and as she con- '. eluded, she handed Crystel a card. 3 ‘Tt is my name,” she said, briefly. K Crystel read the address. It was a name she had never heard before, nor was ever likely to forget, so unique and melodious was it: i: ‘“UNDINE DEL Rose.” _ ~~ * Thave never heard of you, Miss Del Rose. here surely must be a mistake. There are ay never visitorsat Edenwilde except invited guests | rer) Of friends,” £M, She was as freezing as an iceberg, but the stranger did not resent the remark. “ As said, [desire to see you, Miss Crystel Roscoe, and as you do not deign to extend to me even the slightest courtesies of hospitality, Tt al, you are engaged to be married to Ber- PEateptes _ Cryste. hair, without | at once inform you whyI am here. Miss sharply. ; “T can’t see that it interests you, Miss Del Rose.” ‘“‘ But it does. I have come to Edenwilde to ascertain if the rumor be true; because, if it be true—” ¢ She ape fixing her penetrating eyes on s sweet face, “ And if it be?” : Miss Roscoe asked it haughtily. : ‘‘Then my mission will be one of bitter woe- fulness to you, Miss Crystel.” sudden throb of the heart told her this e woman’s visit was an omen; a sickening came over her, that the bright eyes op- bo her did not fail to see. Vill you tell me? I must know, even if I ee The Towers and have it from his own ips. “T see no reason for your troubling Mr. Haighte. I also know of no reason why I should deny that which is an honor to me, or would be to any woman. Yes, Miss Del Rose, I am betrothed to Bertrand Haighte. I wear this ring, that he gave me; and onemonth from to-day sees me his bridé.” Crystel spoke quietly, haughtily, and then turned away, asif, all the required information being given, she deemed herself at liberty to withdraw. A deathty. askiness overspread Undine Del Rose’s dark face, as she reached forth her hands toward the pale, frightened girl. ‘*Oh, has he dared? has he dared? Miss Crys- tel, he dare not marry you, he dare not marry any one—oh, God! forgive him that he has cast this blight over your young life! And yet, oh, my poor Miss Crystel, thank Him you are spared the horror of becoming his wife—oh, the awful, terrible words, BERTRAND HaAIGHTE’S wite! As she finished speaking, she bowed her head on her hands, while Crystel stood, like a statue, staring at ber. ‘* Explain yourself ! is very near and dear to me, and that whatever you say to injure him, hurts me as well. Re- | member he occupies a position of influence and trust, and is known throughout the State for noble, upright gentleman. Remember I kno him intimately, better than you can.” She had regained her composure, and her brown eyes were Megan regarding the hand- some, passionate face before en. “ Better than—” + The stranger checked herself, then began, al- most fiercely: " ‘“‘T tell you he dare not, he can not, he SHALL not make you his wife! B swear you shall never stand at the altar as Ber- bas ro we es uch language betrays your purpose, woman. At first I thought you aki rs “Oe ee janes and gentle demeanor seemed to declare so, I was stariled by your boldness and troubled at your words. ever or whatever you are, I fear you no longer. Such foolish words belong to but idiots—or jealous women!” Crystel drew her shawl more closely around her; but the stranger grew more excited at her coolness. “T—T an idiot? J jealous of him! Oh, would I might speak the secret that is locked here.” She struck wildly against her breast. ‘*T am not anxious to know your secrets. I wish to be excused now.” Wet) Crystel bowed. ' ‘One moment, I beg, while I tell you to prove me—prove me! Go tell your betrothed hus- band Undine Del Rose was here, and he’ll ask who she is! But tell him these three words— whisaey them in the ear of the man who, though no but yourself, the man, who, though free as the air he breathes, dare not marry you. Crystel Roscoe, whisper to him, I say, these words— and by the way he hears them, jud e for your- self. But, if the world stands, and you live rc never see the day that calls you aighte’s wife!” rm She leaned over, and murmured the fatal words in Crystel’s ear. Then, with no further adieu, rode away as she had come. Crystel watched the flying figure, and noted | Se SI She sat down on the rustic settee, her heart that it took the direction of The Towers. fluttering, her thoughts wildand unsettled. _ What did it all mean? news, her tragic oath? Bertrand Haighte? = => But, despite her brave putting of the questions ie iain ane aaa ae eT re me, did you never wear your Remember Mr. Haighte |. que for the wor $0 ce was her oracle—Hellice was efore high Heaven I | ut now, Undine Del Rose, who- bound by word or deed to any living woman ertrand face camegraver. : ang tell me.” hh in 8 | “Come now, pet, and let me hear what oc- — Who was this myste- | casions this cloud, be it trivial or important. I to herself, her heart was sinking with fright id and nervous alarm; and she grew chillier than the cold evening air alone made her. So she wrapped her shawl more tightly about her, and still sat, waiting and thinking; the while those three significant words kept finging in her ears. Bertrana was bound to no one, yet was not at liberty to marry! It was strange, atleast; and passing bold in this witch-faced, elfin-locked Undine Del Rose, if nothing more! 4 Carriage-wheels were approaching, and Crys- tel arose to greet her sister and father on their return from the city. ‘““Why, Cryssie, you’re looking paler than usual, a sort of scared pale. Has any thing oc- curred?” General Roscoe, a fine, gray-headed, portly ae gentleman, drew his youngest born to his ide side. tA Hite lone hat is all. I ‘ A little lonel a, that is all. I expected Bertrand, but he dia not come.” es “And we just passed a lady riding up the avenue to The Towers. A glorious face, dark and witching as an elf’s. Hellice, my dear, shall Lassist you?” A tall, graceful woman, not unlike Crystel’s self, came up the broad marble steps, loaded with wee packages. i | ‘Oh, these tormenting bridal favors, Crystel! | Papa fairly scolded me to-day at aie old Stewart's, while I was deciding between white piste ee blue velvet buttons for your robe dechambre.” Her merry aug struck a strange chill to h sister’s heart. ready the name of bridal fa- vors sent a sickening shiver over her. “Then, there were the kids, I salaatae % dozen boxes, Crystel, and papa whispered Pa ands uncovered after you were to be married?” — a Crystel tried to laugh, but her eyes betrayed to the loving sister the fact of some griefs; and, unloading the parcels, she went up to Crystel, with all the decisiveness of her character, ; ‘“* Look you, Crystel, inmy eyes. I see that comping has eet you 5 you will tell me?” nd then she poure er stra fe story in Hellice’s ear. ~ ; 3 Hellice Roscoe was not a woman who would , laugh at such a story; nor would she seek to | hide any trouble she herself felt. She was straightforward, honest, brave-hearted; a wo- man to fight a difficulty rather than go around and avoidit. —_ ‘ So now, when Crystel sat “comingeanc wait- J -” ie. i at were —and Hel- as Heli ing down in her sister’s eyes, with a sad, pitying light in her own. ” . ‘“‘Crystel, child, there must be scine sort of a foundation to warrant this stranger’s asser- tions. | What it may be, we must find out. Your first duty toward proving her a iraud or atruth is, to faithfully repeat what you have told me to Bertrand: There, he is coming up the front stairs now.” . : CHAPTER I. . ~ re STRICKEN, ~ : HE was a young man, was Bertrand Haighte, with a merry, joyous light in his eyes, and a uick, firm spring in his tread as he walked;a Hi, well-built young fellow, with square shoul- ders, proud head, and graceful bearing, = As he came lightly up the flight of marble steps Crystel looked down fom her window on him | with feelings that were strangers to het heart; a vague fear for their future, a ‘ust of the gical and withal, a yearning tenderness in er soul for him who might never be hers. _ These thoughts it was that lent the shadow to her rare brown eyes, and her lover noted it in- . ae , i ** Crystel, darling, what cruel elf has been painting these shades on that sweet face? Can it a4 be exorcised by my superior power, think you ‘ ‘Bertrand lifted her chin, and kissed her ripe, red lips; and she smiled up in his merry biue eyes; but it was a wanlike smile. ty cog Her lover gazed earnestly at her; then his own nething is the matter, Crystel. Come, 4S a . ba, ith a playful show of authority, he drew ‘her cold little hands. ‘rious ‘‘Undine Del na, Mer a Kap get can promise my sympathy and aid.” at she Ow 0 fenc How noble he was when he spoke so tende and ve so like a strong, proud man! | “Tam sure of your sympathy alwa es ‘ \: / = nd / o the sofa, and then sat down himself, hold- Ni }
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~~ & THE MASKED BRIDE. 3 —_— trand, dear, eyen as I desire you shall ever rest Ur assured of my unchanging love for you, come what will.” : Crystel trembled a little as the words left her lips, and she snatched a quick glance at her a lover’s face, on which was written surprise and bewilderment. , ‘ } ) *“ Fou think?” d é She was looking wistfully at him. “‘T never could guess, darling, unless it were Spgeleeracd 1? Am I wight?” ay" He "laughed gayly; Crystel’s face grew Ren —graver. , gas Ne ____ ** Bertrand, you have spoken in jest the truth that is troubling me, She did ‘tell me you . dared u OULD not, SHOULD not ever call es wife.’ - me : _ Orystel’s eyes began to moisten, and her lips trembled; it was a relief to see Bertrand spring from the sofa, his cheeks flushing, his eyes , eepming in anger. But, like adead weight on her heart lay the fact, she had not yet applied | her test. . L. “Tt is a disgraceful attempt to blackmail m my bird, Crystel; but a pitiful, miserable at- tempt, as this adventuress shall prove to her sorrow. Did she say more, Crystel? No won- i a looked gloomy, you poor little dar- a er heart throbbed wildly as he put his arms es around her waist. Perhaps it might be for the last time; for, when she should have him the message Undine Del Rose left, and he whatever it was—and guilt it must be that would raise a barrier between them—then all would be over forever. Forever! the thought _ of the word froze the syllables that she strove to form on her lips. ‘She made a mighty effort; |. she would know her lover’s truth or falsity; she |. would throw the die that should decide her fu- ke ee happiness or despair. | “ Betrand, she bade me say to you, ‘ FLORIAN STILL LIVES.’” Crystel’s heart stood still one awful second of suspense; then a cold, horrible calm of utter _ desolation settled over her, for Bertrand sprung from her side as if shot. * “Good Heavens! what demon of perdition dare whisper those accursed words into your ears? Crystel, oh, Crystel, don’t look so at me! pat Sibi , believe me, it means nothing to arm you Jifted her cold hand to his hot, flushed ' , “Don’t, Bertrand—oh, don’t. She said it * - Would prove you—oh, Be d, why did you ye trust fo me, only tell me you believe in me, and <i his seanger.” ' apr 1 Sau clasped her tightly in his passionate arms. +] “Bab porate nara de Ea it; this new, awfu _ Inystery, that has broken my heart alread: _ Won’t you tell me who this ‘ Florian’ is?” Bertrand shook his head gloomily. i _ “T can not; Tdare not. Crystel, there is a ‘secret, a fable darkly-terrible secret that. hould have come to your ears. But, my _Lask you to have faith in me that I am you, that I love yom. Won’t you?” » ~ fr he Cie’ ue ‘ 7 mean should, by his agitation, demonstrate his guilt, | __ nhow;.and she saw a hot flush mount to his fore- | _ t return | _ Itis vohgr there was a certain air of romance ‘‘ But she said you should never marry me.” His face darkened. _ “You said she was dark, elegant?” Crystel nodded vaguely. For several minutes Bertrand stood in deepest meditation; gradually he grew pale, and then stern. He took Crystel’s nerveless hand in his own, and looked down in her tearful eyes. ‘‘Undine Del Rose was right. Florian does live, and I therefore return you your plighted troth. Crystel Roscoe, God in Heaven alone knows the agony in my heart; He alone knows the tenderness I dare not utter; and he only will unravel this mystery that my lips have solemn- | ¢ ly sworn never to reveal. If I have sinned | : against you, Crystel Roscoe, I never meant it; I alone have sinned, and would that I alone mi i suffer.” 5” He raised her hand to his lips and bowed rey- erently before he turned away. At the door he paused and looked backward; then sprung vehemently to his betrothed’s side. “Oh, Crystel, Crystel, my darling, my poor, precious darling! My heart is crushed within me at this sudden news. I never dreamed my pare would rise up and blast my future; but stel, before I go, let me swear I never love but you, that you are the only woman who ever heard a love-word from me! Tell me just once, ny, darling, that you love me!” he was leaning ayainst the mantle, trem- bling and white as its marble; her tears were spent, and her voice had astrange calmness that was far more terrible than the most passionate abandon of tr ‘* Bertrand, the cloud is upon me; it will never be lifted this side eternity’s shores; but, Ber- trand, dearer than life, stronger than death, is my love for you. Go, now—good-by!” And thus they parted, they whose very souls had merged into one; and the world went on, and the flowers bloomed, and the sun shone. And Bertrand Haighte and Crystel Roscoe wondered at the inscrutable providence of their Creator! CHAPTER III. AT THE TOWERS. THE setting sun was shining redly over the high,gloomy turrets and flaming against the tiny diamond-paned casements; the vale below, where Edenwilde lay, was draped in the soft, sweet dusk that follows the sunset, while high up on those peaked hills the glowing glories were still visible. The Towers was a ea old place, brown with age, of storied fable and eyrie renown. Legends had it that a half-dozen generations be- fore the present heir, when young Lord Oscar Haighte fled from his fatherland, because of the human blood that stained his guilty hands, he had bought this grand old place, then lying idly vacant on account of wila rumors afloat that ar itants of another world had made it their ome. J Just suited to bis fierce, fearless nature, was is ill-starred Castle Cavnoch to young Lord scar, and, in gloomy silence, he and his meek- ‘eyed young wife (whose sad, haunting face was a ap long after she was laid to her last slum- er) and their three children, took up their abode at,‘‘ The Towers,” as the owner preferred to call it. At Lord Oscar’s death, a paper, closely writ- ten and imposingly sealed, was left to his oldest son, Egbert, who, after swearing to obey its in- structiong, was permitted to learn what those ins {ns were. All his life was devoted to the duty imposed upon him, while the paper, bearing his added signature, was reserved to his oldest son and heir. Thus had the mysterious document been handed, soeran the legend, through seven suc- cessive generations, until, when our story opens, it was in the possession of Bertrand Haighte, the present master of The Towers. Though born of English aristocracy, the young man, as had his father and grandfather, dropped the title to their name, and adopted the prevalent American mode of address and cour- tesy. On his twenty-first birthday, a time only hree years earlier, Bertrand Haighte had read letter written by the fingers that had so long “ to their mother dust. lingering about this family relic, not to say an atmosphere of mysterious solemnity; yet, perhaps, because in these unromantic, matter-of-fact later years of ours, when epee and goblins, deeds of chivalry, and ights of gallant renown, are but storied fables, Bertrand Haighte seemed to care i little about the entailed letter that was as Ye ‘ trand Haighte, to wa much his as The Towers itself. He had sworn to it, to be sure, because he knew he had to, or else lose his expected possession ; he had a vague sort of idea that it was only a trifling journey to perform, or a deed to do, that the original Lord Haighte had left undone. | So, after reading it, it was with speechless surprise he learned the value of his oath; an for twenty-four hours after that memorable birth-night, young Haighte had walked the floor of his library in a restless agony of sorrow, #1 - ger and terror. Gradually he grew calmer, as the days wore 1; then he became accustcmed to thinking «?_ awful birthright; and, ky tte tme he Lisi : 7 seen pretty Crystel Roscoe, on her return from lege, he was , 1: j aed to Gespise the wernirg f that letter—forget its injurcticns in the jas- sinations of his sweetheart’s grace and beauty. " And the result—we have seen it. Bertrand Haighte wes cel jing up the stecp bridle-path that led, on one sice, to The Towers, after he had left Edenwilde a1d Ciystel. Thcse horrible words, so simple to a stranger’s ear, 4 were fraught with a mysticism end terror to him, for they were the words written years and years ago by Oscar Haighte’s hand: ‘‘ FLORIAN STILL LIVES!” p ¢ They were the words told to Crystel, who ie had whispered them, in an agony of doukt and _ fear, to him. “a No wonder he had faled and fiusked with — emotion, for those words, from the lips of one 3 who never bad heard of his ancestor’s strange , letter—her, who was, above all women, to mistress of The Towers—at once filled him with keenest agony and greatest alarm. They were the very words that closed the letter that lay, yellow with age, at the old stone Towers; by those words was a Haighte to be warned if he forgot his oath, or dared violate it; by them was he to know there was no possible ate to hap- iness or prosperity, except on the terms laid signed by so many of the long-dead own an Haightes. & Of all this was Be toe Bertrand ee ee as i he dashed recklessly along, the fresh wind ircm off the water blowing over his hot, flushed face, ier At the outer gate, he sprung from his horse, aud threw the reins to a waiting groom; entered tke apa front entrance, and proceeded to the li- rary. y lt was rey unlike what one would expect to find at The Towers, after seeing the solemn, si- lent building from without, where not a sacri- legious hand had touched a stone since the days when the drawbridge and armor- had been two of the features of the estate. , A long, light room, looking front on the Rt? sloping meadow-land that surrounded the house for several acres; to the side, on the sides of the hills, and the river flowing below, a carpet of light, bright emerald velvet covered the floor; a large oval table, scattered over with books and papers; easy-chairs, upholstered in green . leather, and shelves filled with a choice, ay Sg selection of works of every description; poetical, historical, political, religious. Into this apartment (which was often used as a reception-room during the summer, while the family—consisting of Bertrand’s mother and sisters, with their servants—was at the fashicn- able watering-place, and who had not yet 1e- turned) Bertrand went, agitated and grief- — stricken, é At the threshold he paused in amazement; then, recollecting himself, removed his hat courteously and bowed; for it wasa lady, lean- — ing carelessly against the open window, that Loi had surprised him. She immediately came forward ina peculiar!y~ graceful manner. » ie Sue “This is Mr. Bertrand Haighte, of The - + Y liquid and melo- » Towers?” Her voice was wonderfull dious, and he could not avoid noticing the dark, passionate gleam in her eyes. “Tam Bertrand Haighte. you, madam?” ee Miss, if you Par sir. I am Miss Del . Rose, of New York.” | She spoke slowly, significantly. The blood re-- ' ceded frem his face, and he stared blankly at her. ‘“‘ And you are the destroyer sent to crush my very life! You have been to her, and blas allher hopes! and all fcr a silly fable!” He was looking sternly at her, bis angry eyes a shining like sheet-lightning. F | . How can I serve “No, Mr. Haighte. I am the agent of one Rk whose law Ican not evade. Like yourself, lam te bound by on oath; unlike yourself,I am not ae disposed to violate it. I yk coe; I have warned | =
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“ Her intensely-brilliant eyes were reading his inmost soul; he felt himself growing helpless under the insufferable glare. . _**You have no reason to do so, Miss Del Rose. Iam acting as Lever intend doing, entirely at my own discretion. Permit me to have re- freshments offered, while you excuse me.” He would have bowed himself away, but she laid her tiny hand on his sleeve. “No, Mr. Haighte, not till Ihave given yeu the counsel I came to give; not till I have beg- ed you to remember the solemn words of the ’ handed you from the grave; not till I re- - mind you that the closing words of it are true; com Tosa. still lives; lives to avenge her | carriage?” t ngs; lives topunish you for violating your | oath.’ ; “ But how do you know the words of this let- ter, that mortal eye save the didest son of the Haightes never read?” A strangely sweet smile came.to her eyes. ‘‘ Because I am one of them you have sworn to sweep from the face of the earth!” There was no tremor in her tones, no glimmer of the steady eyes. Bertrand groaned. ‘‘The accursed oath—would I had torn it into a million of shreds, and braved the conse- quences!” “Mr. Haighte, I, Undine Del Rose, and you are sworn enemies according to the letter. hall we be?” Those wondrous eyes were letting the long jashescurl over their darkling depths, and the ‘voice was modulated to exquisite lowness. ‘Who are you—tell me?’ ** A descendant of the victim of Lord. Oscar Haighte’s hand; the only living representative. And my life you have sworn to take. It is in your powernow. Butlam not afraid. Shall we be enemies hereafter, or friends?” She extended her hand and looked earnestly at him. \ ““Woe comes to the Haightes if they but touch the hand of one of you. You have broken the tie between me and my only one; why should I be your friend?” “J willtell you why. Because I jewel; the jewelthe letter spoke of; the jewel he letter Commands shall be a sign of peace whenever it comes; the jewel that the Lord of So a his dead friendship.” She held up her finger and the glittering green and red veined stone that adorned it. Bertrand rubbed his eyes in bewilderment. She had spoken the truth. But, how had she obtained it, that had been lost these fifty years? He dared not ask. “*Undine Del Rose, you have conquered. I yield; your friend.” He took her hand, warm and throbbing, in his own, so cold and damp. Thus they sealed the compact, and the beau- tiful girl rode away, a smile of strange triumph on her passionate 1 -darkly ominous shone in her eyes as she looked down on lovely Edenwilde lying amid the dark- ening shadows. ' y. By this token, I demand your CHAPTER IV. A BOLD RESOLVE. A LONELY country roadside at the gloaming, is perhaps not the most pleasant place to ride by oe self, particularly ‘ss that same seen a young, pretty girl, as young and pretty as Undine Del Rose, who, ‘with her eyes glow- ing like twin stars, and her round, dusky cheeks flushing with a rich, scarlet bloom, was dashin along toward the railway station. Her g «fortune had exceeded her wildest dreams; that ' she should compel proud Bertrand Haighte to poder hand in ig hae, at the very first in- erview, was news enough to make her heart beat joyously; as joyously it did beat, as she hastenedon. __ At the railway depot she returned the horse she had hired, purchased a ticket for New York, ‘aud then, as if impationt of quiet restfulness, aced to and fro on the long, deserted plat- form. ak | On her pretty hand shone the curious jewel, whose vivid scarlet veins reminded one of living biood, and Undine Del Rose caressed it with a sort of horrible triumph. A few moments later -° and the long train came thundering on; halted | a second, took this handsome dark girl, and a half-dozen other passengers, and then went ding along again, now under dark tunnels, ~ now out into the shimmering starlight; always winding, like a huge serpent of fire, along the soft-flowing Hudson, ; wear this | ave his victim once, then stole from. ips; and a light that was | THE MASKED BRIDE. ~ It had told nine o’clock by Undine’s tiny little Geneva watch, as she alighted at the city ter- minus, and looked, half inquiringly, half ex- pectantly about her. A gentleman, dressed in the prevailing style, of engaging manners and fine appearance, came forward to meet her. ‘Undine, I was afraid you would be unable to catch the train. I’ve been so longing to see you. It seems an age since this morning.” Undine’s face darkened, and she ignored the extended hand. “‘Tt seems tome you are ever the one I am lled to be welcomed by. Where is the The fair blonde face finshed at the words. ‘Undine, my darling, do not speak so. Re- member—” ‘‘T remember but one thing, and that is, I de- test you more thoroughly after this visit I’ve paid than I ever did before.” Her eyes sparkled like beads of jet under a brilliant lamplight, as they thus exchanged sal- utations in a low, whispering monotone. ‘‘ Here is the carriage, Undine. Mrs. St. Ha- vens sent it.” Perhaps Undine Del Rose did not notice it, in her haughty wrath, but Clifford Temple’s voice was cold and careless when he spoke; but she certainly did observe that he never offered his hand, as was his wont delightedly to do, as she sy gol into the brougham. ‘Your manners seem to have flown with your welcome.” , Undine glanced sideways at him, never fear- ing but that a few pet words from her could drive away the shadows from his face, as she had done a dozén times before. But to-night Undine Del Rose had spoken careless words that had estranged a heart that loved her. And how often do we do the very selfsame thing! It was witha new sensation—one of curiosity to know what to make of this strange disposi- tion on Clifford Temple’s pee’ and of fear lest she had really destroyed the love she had thought to trifle with—that Undine Del Rose leaned back in the satin cushions of Mrs. St. Havens’s elegant brougham, and watched her lover from under her vailing lashes. _ “Ts that so? I must confess that the rather cool reception I received may have served to damp them.” = He just glanced at her, and Undine wondered if it would quite kill her to have Clifford Tem- ple cease to love her? and yet, woven into the woof of that thought, was a remembrance of Bertrand Haighte’s handsome face and courtly air. ‘‘Perhaps you would not care to hear of my adventures since I left you yesterday morn- ing? « ‘ Undine spoke very indifferently, but the gen-* tleman’s cool reply was quite as careless. ‘* Well, [can not say that I have any particular desire to learn them. Just as pe please, how- ever. By-the-by, I just recollect an enga e- ment at ten o’clock. You'll excuse me, dine?” He called to the coachman to rein in his horses at the corner, then, with a nod and a touch of his hat to Undine, he sprung out, and went up the avenue. She gazed after him, her eyes full of wonder- ment; a smile of challenging triumph, as though he had not dared measure lances with her, rose to her lips, and then she leaned lazily back among the cushions, as the carriage bowled rap- idly up the silent avenue. Beyond an occasional illy-concealed smile that half displayed her little white teeth, she did not betray her thoughts during that ride home, and when the carriage stopped at the elegant mansion on Lexington avenue, she sprung out n- There was a suddenly-forced hauteur in Un- dine’s words that attracted the lady’s attention; and as they had just reached the upper landing, she turned abruptly around, and looked at the beautiful flushed face. ‘“‘ Have you had another lover’s quarrel? Tell me, Undine.” She laughed. “You seem quite agitated over so trivial an affair. Yes, we have had a slight coolness, hardly a quarrel. He’s altogether too devoted, Mrs. St. Havens. I told him so, and the conse- quence was, Mr. Temple remembered an en- gagement must be attended to, and left me to my own pleasant society.” rs. St. Havens walked slowly into the splen- did apartment she called ‘‘ her room.” A large front chamber, covered with royal velvet carpeting; adorned with rich pink plush und silver furniture; decorated by byous of all kinds; all combining to form a picture that was the perfect embodiment of extreme wealth, taste and luxurious habits. After the door had closed behind them, Mrs. St. Havens turned again to Undine, but with so strangely altered an expression on her fine features, that the girl uttered an involuntary cry. . “Heavens and earth! Mrs. St. Havens, what is the matter?” Well might she ask, as she gazed upon the ashen white lips, the pale deathly face: the eyes, so full of tremor and dismay. : ‘There is nothing the matter. I am only suffering in my mind a portion of the agony ov, will endure if you love Clifford Temple. ndine Del Rose, beware how you trifle with him; for, besides loving you, he has you in his wer, And not only you, but me, me, Mrs. t. Havens!” ’ She almost screamed the last words: and an incredulous smile slowly gathered on Undine’s lips. rN Surely you are excited eee your know]- edge. Of course, you are either mistaken, or alarmed needlessly.” “‘T wish to Heaven I were! But I tell you, Undine Del Rose, that the day that sees you and Clifford Temple enemies witnesses— Ah, I dare not speak the horrible words! But, girl, girl! as you value your earthly happiness, as you value my welfare, oh, be careful how you of-— fend him!” , Pale from agitation, Mrs. St, Havens sunk into the chair near by, while Undine stood, cerennBy brilliant, defiantly beautiful, beside er. “It may all be true. I will not doubt but you mean all yousay. And yet, Mrs. St. Ha- vens, I freely confess to you that I have ceased to care for Clifford Temple. To-day I met m destiny; the only man I ever saw whom I love worshiped, the moment [ saw him. If he had asked me, I’d have married him on the spot.” A sudden flush flamed over Mrs, St. Havens’s ce. “Oh, Undine, how can you? But you must crush it; you must forget this stranger, who- ever he is. Undine, you must marry Clifford Temple.” Then the girl laughed; a low ripple of tanta- MAT But it T iove this oth “But i ove this other, this god a manag ) g ii Z & ‘*You mustn’t ever allow yourself to think of it. Oh, Undine, believe me; heed my warning! I never told you before, for I fondly hoped - see you united to Clifford without any know- ledge of the dread secret, that never could have added to your happiness. But when I saw you © come without him to-night, oh, my heart sunk within me!” — y ‘“‘You are not so brave asI. And if the fate of ten million worlds hung on my decision, E S unassisted, and with a pleasant ‘‘ All ue * | would not hesitate to marry this glorious Martin,” ran up the steps to the lace c inner door. ; A lady met her, just as she laid her hand on the silver handle—a matronly, stylish woman, with a brilliant smile, and keen, bright eyes. She caught Undine’s hand as they met. “My dear, I am so thankful you haye re- turned. You can’timagine how worried I have been. Come right up to my room, to warm we a it remarkably chiliy for an October night? Undine kissed the clear white forehead. ‘‘T am sorry you have fretted; I have had a delightful time, and found all the Halls well— Lida especially.” ‘But where’s Mr. Temple! He left the house in the brougham.” ‘Mrs. St. Havens, I do not know where he is.”” stranger, if those worlds were eternally lost therefor!” Mrs. St. Havens buried her face in her hands, pcre a silence ensued, almost painful in its inten- sity. “Who is this other?” she asked, hesitatingly. The answer came prompt and proud from Undine’s lips. ‘Bertrand Haighté, of The Towers.” “Merciful God, forbid it!” _ Mrs. St. Havens sprung wildly from her chair, her eyes fairly glaring from their sockets, her fair hands beating against the air, as if to drive © away the words. , ““Unsay them, oh, Undine, unsay those words! | Bertrand Haighte— Oh, what is your sin, that this awful calamity is sent upon us? 14 you ever went to the Halls to-day, when I. might have known you would have seen him?
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a ca ‘ ‘ , , \ THE MASKED BRIDE With a faint wail of anguish, she slid down to the soft carpet, unconscious and still. After Undine had summoned the maid, and seen Mrs. St. Havens at rest, she ascended the stairs to her own room; and there, with starry eyes, looked at her reflection in the mirror. ‘““Yes, Undine Del Rose, youare fairly started on your career of adventure! Never give up, no matter what may come, until you have ac- complished the solitary object of your lonely life, to which all other aims shall bend! Never till you are the bride of Bertrand Haighte will your work be accomplished. And it shall be accomplished by fair means or foul, or Undine Del Rose will die in the attempt.” CHAPTER V. LURLINE’S LOVE. BERTRAND HAIGHTE stood, almost a petrified man, looking at, not seeing, the graceful fleet- ing form of the bewildering girl, as she dashed down the rocky ee leading from The Towers to the main road. The twilight was rapidly gathering, and from the windows of Edenwilde, that lay nestling so lovingly on the greensward at the foot of the hills, he saw faint, twinkling lights, now in one PP ae rs pow in another, and at last shining like a calm beacon-light in Crystel’s room. A bitter mood was upon him, anda keen an- point he had so often watched in happier mo- Point was in his heart as he looked atthe bright - soothing dusk-shadows had fallen! t their garments the sweet, coo ents, as the signal for him to come to his love. How the world was changed since last the To-night, instead of the low, murmurous music of the Hudson as it softly laved the base of the hills, came a dull, sullen sound, as if to reprove him and discourage him. The hills, ever his glor * and delight in the grand dignity of silent, sol- _emn restfulness, now appeared to rise grimly, savagely up in the darkness, like bold, trium- phant fingers pointing out his misery. For several moments he stood in the large mardle-floored rotunda, watching and wonder- ing if all the joy of his life wes gone out; then, as the bells of The Towers began to ring the hour of eight, he turned with a chilled shiver half of cold, half of inward nervousness, an re-entered the warm, light library where Un- dine Del Rose had left a faint, sweet, rare per- fume lingering in the air. With a gesture of disgust he threw up the window. é “The sooner I forget her the better! And yet, _what wondrous eyes she had!” And with the strange inconsistency of man ee took the best way of forgetting Undine Del ose; that of brooding over her strange, witch- ing charms. Yet, his very while he thought of Crystel Roscoe; and he was ever thinking of her, even while the dark eyes and crimson lips of her who had stricken them was floating before his memory’s eyes. A long, her Sa ee he sat there, his senses half-fascinated by that ane fragrant odor that persistently lingered around him; with a ten- erness, it seemed to him, and he grew angry be himself at the imaginative thought. nd while he sat there, yet grieving and striving tosee light ahead for him and Crystel, iota suddenly aware that there wasa de- , his heart was aching to bursting lightful commotion at the door; the next mo- ment grand, stately mother and haughtily elegant sister entered the library, bringing in hness of the night air; and the night air on the highlan ids is _ plissful to breathe. Bertrand sprung toaveléeine ud them, an apology on his lips. “You need to ask forgiveness, you mo _ boy, for not coming to the city to meet us. If - ithad not been that we were carried perforce, by Mrs. Judge Temple tu her residence, I should have telegraphed to you. As it was, her son accompanied us, and saw us safely on the train.” The aristocratic lady kissed her handsome boy, then sunk wearily down in a capacious arm-chair. - “Sit down, my dear; Bertrand, just close the window. I am sovery fatigued. I really do not see how we would have managed had it not been for young Mr. Temple. e@ was very _ handsome, don’t you think so, Lena?” Miss Haighte carelessly twirled the rings on her finger, but a hightened color flamed for one _ brief second on her marble-white face, used as she’ was to guarding her thoughts from any one’s eye. “Yes, I think he is very handsome. He was _ agreeable and gentlemanly, not at all presum- ing in his attentions.” “That is an unusual compliment for you to ‘ 1 aes } ‘ - \ ~~ a z pay, Lena. Perhaps Gussie will favor this stranger with a less flattering opinion!” Bertrand laid his hand caressingly on his ee sister’s head; she was the pet of the ousehold, and Bertrand idolized her. She looked saucily up in his face. ‘*Do you suppose I am going to tell my secret impression of Mr. Clifford Tempie? ot I, brother mine. I willleave thatto Lurline. By the way, Bertie, how could we have neglected to inquire after Hellice Roscoe and darling little Crystel? We came home a fortnight earlier than we expected to prepare for your wedding.” A sudden cold shiver thrilled over Bertrand; he looked out at the window into the dense darkness, striving to hide the pallor he felt creeping over his face. ‘She is well, Gussie, mia. And the rest of the Roscoes, too. I was there to-day, as usual.” He spoke naturally, wondering to himself why he did not tell them the strange events of the day. Something deterred him; and he obeyed the silent impulse. ‘““We are going back to New York to-morrow for a couple of days,” said Lena; ‘‘ perhaps you and Crystel will g0? She has such exquisite taste in selecting goods. The cards are not out yet, to hinder either of you.” ' “T certainly have no objection.” He murmured the words very indifferently, Mrs. Haighte thought, and hissisters. But they made no remarks thereon. “Then please ride over to Edenwilde early a ee and bring Crystel and Hellice ack. Pretty, imperious Gussie kissed her hand to her brother, and then went, singing a gay tune, up the stairs. Mrs. Haighte followed, bidding her son good- night, leaving Lurline alone with her brother. ‘I did not want to speak before them, Ber- trand, but I must tell you. Oh, brother, I have met the one at last! I loved him as soon as I saw him; am I unmaidenly, Bertrand? I knew you would sympathize with me if any one would, because you are so happy in the love of little Crystel Roscoe.” He almost groaned, but Lurline did not per- crt nin aiden! tately sister! enly, my stately sister imagine a Haighte, a woman of our family, be- ing that. No, my dear Lena, to love is never ‘unwomanly, provided the loved one be’an idol worthy of worship. Who is this Mr. Temple?” Somehow, as his lips uttered this name, there stole across his senses that same sweet fragrance again, and Lurline noted it. “He carries that same perfume. I can not Isn’t it glo- rious? Le Del Rose, he called it, when I re- marked its sweetness,” Bertrand started. ‘*Del Rose! That was her name! Strange!” Lurline’s low, confidential voice broke the rev- erie he was falling into. ‘*His name is most beautiful—Clifford Tem- le. Heisso grand and elegant; far different rom the other men I have been in contact with all this long, dreary summer. I can not tell you more, save that he is the only idolized son ‘of his widowed mother; rich and aristocratic.” Her voice mellowed down toa happy whisper; and Bertrand stooped and kissed her. ‘“‘Good-night, Lurline. Dream of him, sister dear, and if he be worthy, and love you as you love him, all will be well.” Then, after she had left him with her sweet secret, Bertrand sat, long after Undine Del Rose had made her vow to win him; long after Crystel Roscoe had extinguished her light and sobbed herself to an unquiet slumber in Hellice’s true arms. He was wondering what to say, what to do, when he went to Edenwilde on the morrow morning, as he was expected to do. © And, with Crystel’s white, rounded face, and Undine’s haunting eyes floating alternately be- fore him, he sat and mused, alone with the silent midnight and his own sad thoughts. CHAPTER VI. ‘THE FINAL RENUNCIATION. _ THE family at Edenwilde had just arisen from the breakfast-table, as Bertrand Haighte’s card was handed to Crystel. General Roscoe had passed frem the break- fast-parlor into his private study beyond, and did not see the look of unutterable agony that eee to Crystel’s face as she turned to Hel- ice. : ‘ “T can not see him. You will tell him, Hel- lice. Tell him it is cruel to come here; tell him—” Hellice gently stopped her = sister’s excited speech. ; : ; Ma n - ‘ }e b . ana. = Sl ad oe eT Te it me et ae tee ee ee ee “Tt would be far better, poor little one, that you should see him, Perhaps he can explain— perhaps that is his errand.” A sudden radiance leaped to Crystel’s face, and she caught her sister’s hand excitedly. ‘**Hellice, do you think he has come for that? oh, my heart seems stopping at the bare sugges- tion! early, unless it be to make it all right?” Then darting by her sister, she almost flew ee the sunny parlor, where Bertrand awaited er. ‘“‘Oh, Bertrand, tell me quickly that you have come to explain this awful mystery that right!’ he wound her two clinging arms around his neck, and he felt her rapid, irregular breathing on his face. For a’ moment he held her in a in tee fierce embrace, then he gently held er away. ‘‘Ob, my poor darling, my suffering, loving little one, I would to God ‘that were my er- rand—” A cry, fraught with agony, fell from her lips, and she staggered away from him to the sofa. He followed her, yet afar off. ‘¢ My lips are seated, Crystel. How dare I prove recreant to the trust imposed on me be- tore my birth? Oh, my darling, my darling won't you have mercy on me, on yourself, an let me have you for my own, regardless of this past trouble?” ‘*But Florian,” she murmured, faintly. A fierce pang reminded him of it. True, there was Florian. In the excitement of seeing her, and the witchery that Undine Del Rose had cast about him, he had forgotten why he dared not marry her; forgotten the very cause of all his troubles. i But he remembered it now, with renewed sorrow. : “T would I had died before to-day,” he ex- claimed, passionately, pacing to and fro, ard gazing ip as Crystel’s bowed head. ‘“‘No; live to avert this shadowing sorrow. Mr. Haighte, am I intruding?” It was Hellice Roscoe’s sweet, womanly voice; a voice whose very sound inspired one with courage. He grasped her bands v hemently. “Tf I might set us all right, I’d live a hun- dred years in the loneliest dungeon at The Towers. Oh, Hellice, sister Hellice, lam afraid will die, and all because J have dared love er. “That is wrong, Bertrand. You love Crys- tel; she loves you—nay, my sister, do not raise your head so as ecg tor me to cease; let me do what I believe to be my duty. Let us all my dear Bertrand, you haved loved in inno- cerce and happiness; and now, because sudden chasms debar your progress, you must not sit down and grieve.” ‘ And what can I do? All the efforts mortal man can put forth will not undo the past.” ‘Hellice smiled. ‘T have thought this mysterious affair all over. the glimmer of light in the library windows at The Towers, and decided that it was wrong to allow such griet to kill you and her, without making an honest effort to remove it. I, for one, dear Bertrand, am willing to help you. 8 I?” ; ~The young man looked at her in a sort of be- wildered pity. v “Have you any ideaof what youare to do?” “Not now. But, can not your mother, when she learns this family secret from you, be able—” Bertrand sprung to his feet. x “Tella female the contents of that letter I swore never to reveal? that no mortal ear, save the oldest son, and the executor of the estate, ever heard since there existed a Haighte? Hellice, that were an impossibility. That would bring down on my mother’s head an awful curse.” Hellice looked seriously at him. ‘IT may be wrong, but J think, were I you, for love’s sake, I’d risk it.”» i She smiled kindly at him, then withdrew from the reom. Crystel who broke the oppressive silence. “ Bertrand, I have but one favor to ask of you. Will you solemn word.” , She laid her white, trembling hand on h 2 ~ / C What can he have ridden over for, thus ~ is keeping us apart! Tell me, dearest, I am do our duty, and God will see to the issue. Yes, clouds darken your landscape, and unseen — Last nightin the silence and darkness, I watched — Neither spoke for several minutes; then it was. grant it? Promise me, on your | arm. “Tl swear toanything you ask, my darling.” Pie
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ae i rn aa a % One ha G after that to hear Nilsso "_ egreeable?” 6 “Then please don’t come to Edenwilde any more. Oh, Bertrand, I see plainly I must give ou up must steel my heart to my fate, Berieand. I never will accept your hand, even if you ey em this mystery ; becauseif, by doing so, you bring a curse on your mother, what leasure would such a dearly-bought priv- dlege bring us? No, Bertrand, your first Jove, your best allegiance, is to your mother. I scan suffer for you, my darling, if not with you, Now, Bertrand, you see I am strong and brave; please say good-by, just as any friend would do, and then go away. I will explain to papa } you to Mrs. Haighte, and Lurline, and Gussie.’ She was trembling from head to foot, desplte her pitiful attempt to appear composed, and her lover gazed at her, his heart throbbing madly. _ He suddenly caught her in his arms, and pressed hot kisses on her pale face, her quiver- ing lips; then, as if he feared his own violence i frighten her, he reverently laid his hands on her fair head. “T have sworn, my darling; and because a Haighte never yet was false to his word, is the reason why I this day give you up, forever and forever!” There was no haste in his movement as he de- parted; he seemed suddenly petrified. He felt mo sorrow, no regret, no disquiet, only this hor- ible stillness that was not restfuiness, this pain- ful calmness that was not resignation. ° ; So he went home, and met Gussie on the front awn, a she coming? Where’s Hellice and Crys- Then he remembered why he had gone to Edenwilde. gg h, it is impossible for them to leave home a * to-day. Gussie’s pretty face clouded. “Never mind, sister mia. Ill go, and that’s next best, isn’t it?” Again he locked the news between his li that must be told soon. But he thought of the two days that were as days of to him, be- fore his family would be compelled to learn the truth; and he decided to wait until their return to The Towers again. If he had but spoken! if he had but known, but an pa In after days he remembered it, and wondered why he was permitted to follow his own way. CHAPTER VIL. ONE DAY. BrertRAND Haticurts tried in vain to analyze his feelings as he rode along in the pre ack | train that morning with his beautiful sisters an stately mother. ¢ Lurline and Gussie were chatting away on some light,. joyous subject; Lena, with her sweet, grave face irradiated with a delicate scarlet bloom as they neared the place where she e had so suddenly learned would see the one to love. . . Bertrand’s thoughts puzzled him. First, he was alarmed to find how vividly those witch- ing, liquid eyes seemed ever peering into his own; he was ashamed that his heart was not broken because of Crystel Roscoe; he wondered if Clifford Temple and Le Del Rose and Undine were any way connected; and, finally, he could not understand how it was that his mother and sisters were on their way to purchase articles for his marriage, when the bride-elect was no more to him than any stranger. _ Then, by some curious lightning speed of reasoning, he thought perhaps, after all, he xvould see the splendid girl who held such a ro- mantic hold on him; he might love her—he }lushed at the audacity of his unspoken thoughts —Crystel refused to marry him; the wedding ra — still be, with a change of brides! _ And as the long train steamed into the depot, he sprung from his seat, vexed and mortified i he had given such free rein to his imagina- tion, _ “We are to drive to Mrs. Temple’s, We promised her this visit.” ; _ And so they rode straight on to their fate— Bertrand Haighte and Lurline! Mrs. Temple met the party in her elegant re- oon. ‘f am delighted to meet your son, Mrs. Haighte,” she said, as Bertrand was presented. ‘*T am sure my boy, Clifford, will be pleased to meet him. And now, after lunch, we will go ona si in Hand then call on Mrs. St. Havens, then through the re home to dinner; . Is'my programme _ An answer was prevented by theentrance of » gentleman, , / ° to await the THE MASKED BRIDE. ———q Mrs. Temple arose. “This is my son, Mr. Clifford, Mr. Haighte.” Temple advanced to exchange greetings, and Bertrand instantly detected that same sweet, nameless fragrance that Undine had left after her. He longed to ask him, but pride forbade. All that afternoon, while Lurline was so per- fectly happy in the society of Clifford, Bertrand was restlessly watching every passing stage and carriage for aglimpse of that radiant, flushed face. Several times.Clifford rallied him on his abstractedness, but Gussie always excused him. ‘He is lonely away from his betrothed, Mr. Temple. late?” “Tf the lady were so charming as yourselves, I would certainly suffer terribly.” And while Gussie was laughing so merrily, Temple would steal a glance at Lurline that made her cheeks bloom gloriously. “* And now for Mrs. Si. Havens.” They drove up, and Bertrand alighted, little ie he was to meet his fate within those walls. The footman announced that the lady in ques- tion was not at home, but that Miss Undine Del Rose was in. Bertrand’s listless ears caught the sound, and his heart leaped to his throat. Mrs. Temple turned to Mrs. Haighte. “We need not go in, then?” Bertrand interposed, with ytd indif- ferent manner, but wildly-throbbing heart. ‘* Perhaps Lenaand Gussie are fatigued riding and wish to alight.” But Lurline was only too happy to sit there on the carriage seat forever, with Clifford Tem- le beside her;she did not say so, however, but implied her present comfort. Gussie was in an impatient mood for the Boulevard, so Bertrand could do no more than glance at the house, take its number, and be driven away. And, during these five minutes of debate, Undine Del Rose was peeping from behind the lace curtains of her own room, with flashing eyes, and trium- phant smile; her proud heart beating as it was seldom wont to beat, as she looked down on the man she already worshiped so madly. As the carriage drove away she drew a long breath of relief. 4 ‘* What can be more fortunate than that Mrs. St. Havens is from home? If she had seen Bertrand, what might have happened?” She was leaning against the snowy-white rep of her lounging chair, and her scarlet-stained cheeks, and jetty hair, streaming over neck and rounded bosom; her glowing, sparkling eyes, made a rare, orientally warm, picture. ‘* He has come to me; he must learn to love, be the result what itmay. He will come again, I feel sure; to-night, I think. The fates favor me, for Mrs. St. Havens will be absent till Satur. Oh, Bertrand Haighte, I’d sell my ve soul for your love—such love as I feel for you?” * It ek: gradually grown dusky, as she sat there, her dark, passionate eyes partly vailed by their heavy lashes, her small hands, as perfect as nature ever molded, crossed on her breast, in an attitude of exquisite, dreamy reverie. Presently she arose, and lighted the gas; then rung for her maid to arrange her toilet. Confident in her expectation of meeting Ber- trand Haighte, and conscious of her beauty, as also her determination to lay age to his heart, she selected her most becoming dress, — ; It was a black grenadine, full of shimmering waves of darkness; her beautiful neck and arms shone through the gossamer covering, and a vy golden chain and cross was clasped about the round throat. ; Her hair was dressed as she invariably wore it; floating like a cloud down to her slender waist, and tied with a glowing scarlet ribbon. She was magnificent as she stood before the pier glass, and adjusted the broad, scarlet silken sash; and as she heard the door-bell ring, a bril- liant smile hovered on her lips. She listened to his footsteps as he entered the parlor; then, after several seconds of silent waiting, she went in, bewildering, glorious in her dark, tropical wigs ? “Mr, Haighte! I am so surprised, so de- lighted!” She went to him, both hands extended, He arose, his senses dazzled; his heart throb- bing, and took her hands, not relinquishing them. “And I am the happiest of all men to be wel- comed by so lovely a charmer.” ; He led her to the sofa, and then let go his hold of her hands. “T called this afternoon with Mr. Temple but Mrs, T ple and the other ladies conclu ed hee of Mrs. St. Havens.” 4 7 * ‘a 7 pe - . er ve 4 4 Y ‘a Wouldn’t you be perfectly disconso- | | He looked down at her expressive face; sud- denly she raised her eyes, ““T saw you, Mr. Haighte, come again.” —_ He had fully intended watching to see if she betrayed any especial knowledge of young Tem- ple; but her answer thrilled him with so delight- ful a sensation that he forgot it. “And why did you know it, Undine Del Rose?” é “No, call me Undine, please, and I will tell ou. x He caressed the shapely fingers that were ly- ing so temptingly near his own. “Then, Date, why did you know I would come?” ; Her hand trembled, and he knew it; and he realized how infatuated he was becoming, yet he wooed the temptation. ‘* Because I wanted to see youso. I thought surely your heart would tell you.” She smiled in his eyes that same smile that had haunted him ever since that first time. “Tt did tell me, Undine, my beautiful one. And now I am here, to see you, to hear you speak, to—” He almost said “ to love you.” ‘* And you do not quite hate me for the part my duty compelled me to play? Oh, Mr. Haighte, I was so afraid you’d despise me.” He slipped his arm around her waist, ‘“Despise you, Undine? How can Pie say it, when I’ve thought but of you since I saw you? Undine, you beautiful temptress, do you know you are making the veriest slave of me?” \ He was toying with the soft hair that floated across his lips. “Oh, Mr. Haighte, I would not do that, I’m sure. But I’m so glad you like me.” She looked so tenderly at him, he could with difficulty refrain from snatching kisses from those proud, curved lips. cane Temple is a very agreeable host, is he not ; She asked him the question. “Yes, a perfect gentleman, You are great friends, I believe?” He was half-jealous already, lest it might be more than friendship. Undine arched her brow with a pretty, impa- tient gesture, ‘“Y-e-s, That is, Clifford and Mrs. St. Havens are—Mrs. St. Havens is my lady bountiful, you know; 1am a mere charity dependent; one of her freaks I imagine—I think she means to marry him one day, in fact, I know it.” How carelessly she told it to him, and when he arose to bid her good-night, he felt so relieved ; and yet—poor Lurline! “You'll come again?” She laid her hand on his arm. I knew you would ‘Will you ride with me to the Park in the { morning?” “I should be delighted. Then I will say good- vight. She smiled as she spoke, but Bertrand laugh- | ingly took her hand and drew her to his side, * Let me kiss you, Undine. May I?” She flushed deliciously ; then a sudden dignity came to her, for she loved this man. ‘“ Not yet, Mr. Haighte—Bertrand.” She murmured his name ina low, melodious whisper, that was music in his ears long after he sought his pillow that night. And all this while, not a thought of Crystel Roscoe! Poor fellow! was he really so much to blame? CHAPTER VIII. ANOTHER DAY. : THE elegant breakfast service on Mr. Tem- ple’s table was glittering in the broad band of sunlight that lay upon it, that frosty October morning; and with the genial warmth of the partly open register around them the sociable household were chatting gayly. “* You spirited yourself away so suddenly last night that I had no opportunity for a quiet ci- gar. Were you at the theater, Haighte, or out ' promenading? You missed a treat if you did | not hear Nilsson.” Bertrand was eating his egg thoughtfully when Clifford addressed him; he etiol a little in surprise, and Gussie laughed. “JT do declare, Bertie, I shall make Crystel laugh heartily when we get home, by telling her of all these abstracted fits of yours,” He made an effort to join in the little ripple of laughter that went round, : ‘“‘Such devotion does not often exist, even when the bridal day wants Lut a few weer of its birth. I pride myself that my son is a ode} of constancy.” ae Mrs, Haighte looked proudly at her handsome ee ‘ " AL \
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' Bertrand Haighte tion of THE MASKED BRIDE. boy. Little did she know how her words stab- bed him! “ Apropos of how ax d where you spent your evening last night, Haighte. I want you to ac- company me this afternoon to call on a very particular lady friend of mine. This morning » we'll go to—” ‘“‘T will gladly be at your service after lunch, but before I am particularly engaged. Several property agents to look after, and some taxes to have settled.” ' “Oh, then, Pll meet you at Delmonico’s—say two o’clock.” : Lurline sat, with cold hands and hot cheeks, wondering who that lady friend of Temple’s was. As the gentlemen went out, she detained Ber- trand, to whom her agitation plainly revealed _her anxiety. f ce Bertie, chere, please find if he’s engaged to er,””’ He pressed her hand, and while he might have told her then and there that Clifford was betrothed to Mrs. St. Havens, he avoided giving her the pain he knew it must cause her. At the front entrance they parted; Lurline to brood in suspicion, Clifford to attend to his le- gitimate business, and Bertand to call a car- and drive straight to Lexington avenue. ndine met him at the door, more charming, if that were possible, than ever. _ She had attired herself in a garnet silk car- riage-dress, with a costly velvet sacque, cut low across the front, where she wore a fine lace cor- sage, A round hat, of garnet velvet, with a \ long, floating bird of Paradise; garnet kids, and heavy Etruscan gold ornaments. That was Undine Del Rose, Mrs. St. Havens’s charity dependent! All that nn Ra she wove her chains more tightly about him; his senses were intoxicated by her bewildering beauty, and when they alighted, just in time for Bertrand to meet Tem- ple at the appointed hour, he had decided to offer her his heart, hand and fortune before the night closed upon them. ‘You'll reserve to-night for me, Undine? I want to see you particularly. You can guess what I wish to say, my beautiful one, but I will not tell it to you until I see you at nine this evening.” ‘‘Of course you must come, till then.” She wafted him a kiss, then watched him aah a “Ttis a dangerous game; but I’ve begun it and J’ll end it, somehow. If Clifford Temple tells him of our engagement—” Her flashing eyes answered her threat. ‘*T see no reason why either should mention me to the other. Jf they should, I will elect or my choice, and Clifford Temple may do his worst.” She was thinking these thoughts as she re- moved her costly wrappings. ‘Perhaps Mrs. St. Havens is a monomaniac on certain subjects; but sane or insane, there is no earthly reason why I should not marry Ber- trand Haighte if I want to. Poor fellow! he has forgotten that I told him, in that firstinter- view, that he never could marry. Well, he shall not, unless I am the bride!” _ She suffered a pat, triumphant light to shine im her eyes; and as she stood smilin ing at her proud reflection, she little dreamed that the path, so easy to tread now, that opened so luck- ily before, was so soon to close upon her, leay- ing her to complete the journey as best she might. Then au revoir ** Now, Haighte, to ses my betrothed.” Clifford announced their destination as the brougham came to the door. cs Betrothed? You are as fortunate as myself en. ‘* Perhaps. You see, Bertrand, I am not sure of the welcome I shall receive. My lady-love and I parted not the best of friends.” Bertrand laughed, and thought of his parting with his belov: : though not yet betrothed. ‘These lovers’ tiffs are mere bagatelles. De- pend upon it, the fair one will be all smiles.” Bertrand smiled to himself as the carriage turned into Lexington avenue, and wondered what Undine would say 'to see him come with Clifford Temple to call on Mrs. St. Havens. As they alighted Clifford turned to him. is repared for the most wondrous revela- auty you ever beheld.” t: a have heard of the lady’s fair face before y. But I fear she is from home.” “T think not. I just caught a glimpse of her ascended the steps.” sther they entered the same apartment ~~ ! as we Tog | | soon again wife. He awaited with feverish impatience Mrs. St. Havens’s appearance, hoping his charmer would be with oa But, to his surprise, Un- ‘dine entered alone. He menor at her, and at sight of her could, with difficulty, repress a ery. He rose and took her hand, ** Miss Del Rose, you are pale and agitated.. Has any thing occurred to distress you?” She stole a tender, wistful glance at him be- fore she replied, “Nothing, thank you, Mr. Haighte. Mr. Temple, you will not find Mrs. St. vens at’ home.” She changed her voice to one of extreme fri- gidity as she addressed her lover. He bowed gallantly. , “T am not desirous of seeing Mrs, St. Havens. I came to present my friend, Mr. Haighte, to my fiancee, but I perceive he has the pleasure of her acquaintance.” A hot flame rose to Bertrand’s face. ‘Miss Del Rose betrothed to you, Temple? I understood you were interested in the lady of the house.” He looked from Undine, who was shiverin, inwardly, wondering how this was to end, bu outwardly calm and dignified, so perfect was her command of herself, to Clifford, who, with a smile on his lips and in his eyes, seemed to en- Joy, the situation. ‘ ' You are mistaken, Mr. Temple, in repre- apie me as engaged to you, when you know I never cared for you. Mr. Haighte, be so kind as to close the register? the room is too warm.” - Berttand’s back was toward them a moment as he obeyed her request; and then she looked at Temple. One of those lightning glances that told him to beware how he thwarted her, that expressed the defiance she felt—the love she en- tertained for Bertrand. He smiled catly back at her flushing, pas- sionate cheeks, and then Haighte joined them again. e seemed to have undergone a complete rev- olution of feeling since he entered the house; when he stepped across the threshold it had been in the full-flush of his impulsive passion for the siren who had lured him, first from happiness with Crystel Roscoe, and now from Crystel without happiness. Of a sudden, the charm was broken, and his head grew confused and giddy as one awaking from some friphteally entrancing dream; and a long, cold thrill that quivered over him, as he drew a relieved breath, told him the spell was broken, while as by magic, Crystel’s fine, sweet face rose before him. The contrast served to complete the thankful- ness of his escape, and) when he turned his face toward Undine again, it was fairly radiant with the new-born thoughts. It was as if after the weakness following a consuming fever he had grown strongagain. . “*Tam grieved if there has arisen any misun- derstanding between Miss Del Rose and Mr, Temple. IfearIlamde trop. I beg you both will permit me to retire, while you amicably re- store each other to favor.” Undine’s bright eyes had. watched every mo- tion of his lips, while Temple was watching her. There was no love in his glances, and had Mrs, St. Havens seen him, she would have realized all she strove to sepia, to Undine. “You are not intruding, sir. And since Mr. Temple chooses to utter lan more elegant than truthful, permit me to remark, more for- cibly than courteous, that your society is pref- erable to Mr. Temple’s.” Her eyes flashed back their dark defiance at Clifford, who bowed as she concluded. ‘‘Then I will at once retire. Perhaps we will see you at dinner, Haighte?’ e turned to Bertrand. ‘‘T must also bid Miss Del Rose adieu, as I leave the city in an hour or so for The Tow- ers. A sudden dusky hue crept over her face, but she restrained the words that were forming on her lips: “He dare not go without keeping his appoint- ment,” she thought; and secure in that thought, she bade the gentlemen adieu, with a frosty bow to Temple, and a warm, passionful glance at Bertrand. At the window she watched them Bertrand had so lately left, and that he was so in to visit, to ask Undine to become his down, her countenance, now that there were no | watchful eyes upon her, displaying all the wild workings of a heart fired by an eqnally violent love and hate. Me ‘How dare he dao it! Then will you listen while I tell you my story? tient : to bring him here, and then to my face tell me of it! But you are thwarted, Clifford Temple! He whom I love I have blinded; he will be deaf to your stories—your truths, I may say when no one hears. Do your very worst, sir! I or, you! and not all the powers of earth or air deter me from being the bride of Bertrand Haighte!” She clenched her fist after the retreating form of RN) agen ““He’ll come to-night, and when he asks me to be his bride I'll tell ily record need not be regarded in our case; that in pels | me the ban is removed! I will lead him to name an early day; and then that for Clifford Temple, Crystel Roscoe, or Mrs. St. Havens!” : She snapped her pretty fingers, and then went down to dinner, CHAPTER IX. GLORIOUS LIGHT. THAT night, while Undine Del Rose sat wait- ing for her lover, he and his mother, with Lur- line and Gussie, were gathered around their dining-table at The Towers, chatting over the incidents of the journey. Lurline’s face was resplendent with the joy that sat upon it, for Clifford Temple had re- quested permission to visit her in the succeedin week; and Bertrand had told her what Cliffor had told him as they left Undine, that, although ~ he had been engaged to Miss Del Rose, she had dissolved it by her actions, and he should for- mally return her her freedom at the earliest possible moment. Bertrand seemed more joyous than he had been for several days; one reason was, the re- moval of the witchery that he was unable to escape; another, and deci ed, after mature deliberation, to follow Hellice Roscoe’s advice, “and lay before his mother the entire story. If the tradition were true, the curse that en- sued for acquainting the females of the Haightes . with the family legend, then his mother would never live to see the sun rise again; instant. vengeance would seize the recipient of the se-~ cret. ; Bertrand was somewhat superstitious: he dearly loved his ee lady mother, and the: struggle was a bitter one. On the other side was Hellice’s advice; the | ibility of a greater joy—the restoraticn of rystel, whom he loved with penitent aff« ct'cn, | after his brief infatuation for Undine—than he dared imagine. x im yes—that the old fam- | And then © tter reason, was, he had | ke - The sisters had gone for a short promenade on the dusky lawn; Mrs. Hai some fine linen she was em trand, away back among the shadows, took this. for his opportunity. ts ‘‘Mother,” he said, suddenly, ‘‘do you be- lieve in the old traditional legends that have been handed down from father to son for sey- eral generations?” ‘*T must confess I am skeptical on that point. ce, : Some persons, I am aware, religiously cling family su erstitions:; but it seems to ie in these enlightened days, they should be treated as they deserve, with contempt.” in his breast; he raised himself while his heart was throbbing somadly, _ “T heard, once, of one of these old legends, that was sacredly preserved by the sons of the family, and as religiously kept from the daugh- ters and wives, on pain of sudden and immedi- ate death.” Rid = Mrs. Haighte laughed; a mellow, natural mel- ody that seemed to send a thrill of unutterable bliss Wall oy Bertrand’s veins. wonderful nineteenth century, I would the least uneasiness if I werea member of that romantic family, and by accident discovered be ‘y ‘ ‘ \ =u: ‘Bertrand sprung from his sofa in excit ed , it. “Bless you, mother mine, for those wor n an instant she grew grave, and ceased her work. . am your mother, who would die to aie. you. woe pressed a loving kiss on her Dieter tate oo e began at the , tel wor a as to use as a test; OV had t marae being the same as | corded in the mysterious letter; how Cryst ols St Shae ote SS St eae ghte was busy with | roidering, and Ber-- She little knew the ecstasy those words awoke __ | from the gay > silken cushion, and strove to speak indifferently, Me + f ‘ my boy, being as I am a liver in this nineteenth ce stot tool . watt ‘Tf you are in trouble, or in joy, my son, t~ <a va via A " e= AL | oe
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* -what surprised, 7a a it ps3 he and my darling as - an oracle. __ has been stolen, and by this girl, who, +n account of this satisfactorily and naturall gee the letter I would at once reco father’s writin and arrange every thing anew. 8 THE MASKED BRIDE, \ ————— cand he had been sundered thereby ; how Undine ‘had possession of the old family ring, and so on, until she was in full possession of all the facts. “Now, mother, you are doomed, if the tradi- “tion be true.” Mrs. Haighte laughed assuringly. ‘*{ think [I will pour your coffee as usual, to- “gnorrow morning, my dear son. I am some- must admit, that this story is “so new tome. Surely I would have heard of it before.” “No,” he said, eagerly. ‘‘ But then you re- amember thatit has been guarded as a most pro- found secret.” She looked seriously at Bertrand. “You really place confidence in this affair f the solemnly-mysterious letter and _ its wharge?” Bertrand could not help blushing under that earnest, eon half-sarcastic gaze. “T am fain toadmit that Ido. Else why per- amit this painful state of affairs between Crystel sand I?” . Iam sorry for what you have suf- fered, and my poor Crystel, who believes you I am pleased that the noble-minded ‘Hellice takes so sensible a view of it, while I am ‘free to confess, Bertrand, that I am a little “mortified that you, a Haighte, are so easily im- ‘pressed by a trumped-up story of a girl with ' pretty eyes.” Bertrand could not say a word in his defense; ‘then, after a brief silence, he seemed suddenly “to have solved a puzzling point. ~— ‘*But the letter, mother, subscribed by all the Haightes since Lord Oscar? and the yellow, sil and the very words that Undine e ‘‘Perhaps I can assist in solving all that. - Bertrand, you never knew your father was in- sane the last six months of his life. We kept it from every one but the attending physician who can téstify to the truth of my assertion, If is more than likely that he, who was, like ‘yourself, of a superstitious, romantic turn, has prepared that manuscript, with all the cunning of insanity, in moments when he was sufficient- dy sane to remember his prevailing characteris- ties. As to the paper, there still remain quires, that Lord Oscar brought from over the water: ‘it is in the secretary in your father’s study, where he spent most of his time. The sig! _ tures sf or may not, be good fac-similes ; how should you know? The jewel that has been “seen on this adventuress ae hand is the only deplorable thing in the whole affair. I am so: “itis not in our possession. Depend ort it, it plainly ‘see, wants you to marry her. Further, caer is- you will find that the manuscript has also appeared, together with the ring, and the same person has taken both. The executor may have mentioned the affair to some one, by which it “reached her ears. She obtained the letter; after “that, what is easier than to work upon a mind in- “clined to regard every thing as mysterious. Once more, Bertrand, why. if you were never to marry Florian,’ has this girl taken “such pains to win you?” © | Mrs. Haighte paused after this long speech; 7 <aalaiaa seized her hand in a rapture of de- _ “My mother, you are simply perfect! No _ lawyer could have elucidated a case so {clearly, y as you have this. You have convinced me, mother; you have _ «shamed me with your noble, sensible view of | this affair, and I will bless elt the day of my “T have only shown you what you could not see alone, There needs but one proof; if I could ize your B. However, you need not wait until we find it before you seek Crystel and tell her the story as you have told me. If I survive the curse,” she smiled as she said it, ‘Sand you -see me at breakfast, you can ride to Edenwilde E f Now, my fool- ish boy, kiss me good-night, and let me go to _ decide either your misery or happiness.” _ Bertrand kissed her reverently; then he went to the corner window of the library to watch the light in Crystel’s window. 7 CHAPTER X. PREPARATIONS. __ Crystet Roscox, in her white cashmere morning wrapper, with its facings of orange ‘satin, and buttons of inlaid gold and pearl, was sitting in her riety eae that dull, cloudy g mber day, while Hellice, cheery and brave _ @nnid the storm of grief that had burst upon her timid sister, was arranging fairy white bows and rosettes of gossamer ribbons. ‘See, what can be prettier for the flowers? So fleecy and feathery.”. Crystel turned her eyes away from the basket of materials. ‘* Tt seems such a mockery, Hellice. It hurts me more thanif Bertrand were dead to see you persistently going on preparing for a bridal that never can be.” Hottears came stealing through the closed lashes, and her lips were quivering. ‘‘That’s all nonsense! ‘Truly, Crystel, do you think for a moment I would cause you pain? Would I, a woman of my years, prepare for a wedding I felt never would occur? No, my sister, you know me better. I make these bridal favors because I know they will be needed on the twentieth of November, just as we ex- pected they would be.” She cast a bright cueing glance at Crys- tel; but her head was turned from the glittering array. é Do you know why Iam so confident, Crys- tel, dear? Because, when I am once convinced that Bertrand will not seek counsel from his mother, I shall tellher myself all I know, and thus secure aid in unraveling this affair.” ‘‘And maybe— Oh, Hellice, am. I dreaming? See, is that not him coming upthe avenue? Tell me, or am I going crazy!” Crystel’s languor had turned to wild excite- ment. She sprung to the window, and stood azing at Bertrand, as he galloped up to the ouse, waving his handkerchief, his handsome face all alight with the good news he brought. ‘‘ Of course it’s Bertrand, and, my word for it, he comes to clear up all this mystery. Crystel, my darling, don’t ery so!” et she was thankful she did weep, and Ber- trand sprung through the French window in a tumult of ere e excitement. ‘““Crystel! Crystel! it’s all right! thank God! I’ve only been the victim of a joke that has all been explained.” Then, when he could calm himself down, he related the story to them, while Hellice worked away at the bridal favors, and Crystel sat watching her lover, her sweet face momentari- ly losing its pitiful sadness, and rapidly grow- ing oT ee and fair as before this sudden, short 8. ““So I had better finish the bridal favors, Crystel? And here, Bertrand, I am going to pin one to your coat, to be your talisman against future danger.” And then, when, with exquisite delicacy, Hellice made anerrand for more white ribbon Bertrand took Crystel’s head-on his breast, and with her eyes reading his face, confessed what he had not told before Hellice; all his mad, wicked infatuation for the dark-eyed girl, whose consummate arts and bold adventure, they fully believed had wrought all the mischief. ‘ And when he besought her pardon, she kissed him, and trusted him as ever. : So the cloud, that seemed so dense it never could blow over, had Be pend seh as suddenly as it came; and joy reigned supreme at Eden- wilde and The All that bright, cool Friday evening, Undine Del Rose sat in Mrs. St. Havens’s elegant par- lors, waiting and wondering ; now sure Bertrand Haighte would be there the next moment; now troubled and ane lest Clifford Temple had succeeded in turning him away from her. She had looked forward to this evening all through the day, as the time that was so tri- umphantly to crown all her endeavors, and now, when the flagon was so near her thirsty lips, that Clifford Temple, of all men, the man she had been taught had a strange. secret power over her—the man she had love before she saw Bertrand, and whom she would again turn to, if by any dire fate she missed her chance of the heir of The Towers, to besuddenly and violently robbed of her lover, as she believed Bertrand to be, was almost mad- dening. She was sitting beside the register, when footsteps echoing on ‘the marble-floored hall, dade Nev to listen, with a delicious flush at the thought that he had come at last. The door was thrown open by the footman; but it was not Bertrand, it was Clifford Temple. Undine arose haughtily. ‘ | beg to beexcused, sir, lam expecting com- pany.” Clifford walked up to the marble mantle and leaned against it, watching the anger tide of sia that ebbed and flowed under her clear 8 owers, in. ‘“‘T know youare waiting for Mr. Haighte; és rr 3 . o : * hls ee Pees G ne. but, as he returned to The Towers by the e'~"t o'clock train, he desired me to excuse him. Un- dine, how dare you undertake this game?” He suddenly spoke with a commanding tore. ‘‘How dare you question me thus? If Mr. Haighte has gone away, it is because you have been sergpae diane ‘‘ Well, perhaps it wasmy fault; perhaps your own, in carrying your little game too far, Un- dine, you knew you were engaged to me whcn you Sentatt it to-day. Why did you tell Mr. Haighte I was paying my addresses to Mrs, Ss. Havens, when you knew it was false?” ‘¢ Because I hated you so; and—yes, ’'m “not ashamed to say it—cared so much There, Clifford Temple, are you satisfied” She sat, twisting her ringsaround and around, angry, mortified and wounded. “T donot seek any satisfaction. I did not call for the purpose of angering you, but merely to warn you against prosecuting your plans further. “Because, Undine, Bertrand Haighte eee home to marry his sweetheart at Eden- e. Undine sprung from her chair like a tigress. ‘‘That’s false. He never shall marry her, so help me Heaven! ‘You think to taunt me into a reconciliation with yourself!” “Not atall. I here y release you from your engagement to me; and with my withdrawal, you may be pleased to learn that I'shall transfer my addresses to Miss Lurline Haighte.” ‘A sudden pallor crept to the corners of her lips. Both pe !—no! she would rally yet! She bowed sarcastically. “Thank you most warmly. Present my com- pliments to the lady, also my condolences.” Clifford laughed. “‘T never saw the jealous phase of your char- acter before, Undine.” Her cheeks flamed instantly. ‘“‘Then you see itnow; not of you, sir, but of one worthy of it. When yousee me the bride of Bertrand Haighte you will agree with me.” A a walked up to her gravely, not un- indly. ce Unding, I will again warn you not to con- tinue this wild, wicked chase for a man ycu never can mar Yes, Undine, were he beart- free to-day, and begged you to be his bride, I would see you laid in your coffin before you should marry him. Better that you died this hour than cherish a love for him longer. Un- dine, we have been lovers; I hope we are friends; therefore, take warning by my words—by Mrs. ~ St. Havens’s words; and believe me, that, sooner than see you standing beside him at the altar, I would take your life, and go down to my own grave with the stain of your heart’s blood on my hands. That would be a mission of mercy to you and him.” Despite her raging anger, Undine listened, and wondered what he meant. When she had gone to Crystel Roscoe, and told her almost the same story, she had not itied the bewildered girl; now, when Clifford —— was warning her, she began to under- stand dimly how Crystel had felt; and yet a wounded anger was pH park in her heart, and a a thirst for the accomplishment of her aims, be their result what it a a be. She said not a word when he had finished, but answered him by a cold bow, and an ominous gleaming of her black eyes. After he had gone, she saw the wedding cards he had accidentally forgotten. Her whole figure shook as if swept by_a_tor- nado, as she held the pure white syr.bols of happiness in her hand, and her eyes seemed like - a concentrated blaze of hidden fire as she read that the marriage between her only idol and Crystel Roscoe would occur on the twentieth of November, at Edenwilde, at () o’clock,P, M. “And this is the end! this the sight I see, when I should have heard his lips call me is !? "dus tore the cards into fragments with a sav- age satisfaction; then stamped on them, in the uncontrollable fit of passion that had smitten her with its fiery hand. . Far into the morning hours she sat there: and then, as the little cuckoo clock chimed three, she arose from her low chair and sought her room. “To-day is the last of October; I have a little time left me yet. "We shall see how this ends, after all!” : ‘ In her room, just as the first faint sounds of life were breaking, she was handed a teleeraph dispatch; and a fierce, ominous, yet withal tri- umphant delight shone in her eyes as she read: “ Annette Willoughby is wanted—sickness.” It was addressed to her own name. e. for him. ‘
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~ - determined she bec _ had gone to Edenwilde, at the Riverside Lod THE MASKED. BRIDE. rE CHAPTER XI. PREPARING FOR THE BLOW. HALF-way between The Towers and Eden- wilde, on the same side of the river as the Ros- coe estate, and standing a considerable distance from the main road, was the cosey, humble cot- tage of the Halls; the family of whom a trivial mention has been made in the preceding chap- ter; the place Undine Del Rose had visited the day of her call upon Crystel Roscoe and Ber- trand Haighte. It was rather a pretty place, with tall trees hiding it from view, and a faint glimmer of the ‘river visible from its upper windows; a pleas- ant home for the small family who lived there. They were but three in number. The hus- band, Jacob Hall, who was gardener at Eden- wilde; his wife, whom the housekeeper at Eden- wilde sometimes employed on extra occasions; and Lida, their niece, the child of Mr. Hall’s brother, a young woman of twenty, who was Crystel’s dressing-maid; who had been in that capacity a long time. She was not a good-look- ing girl, and had it not been for the faithfulness with which she attended to her duties, she never would have remained at Edenwilde so long as she had. Her recommendations, coming as they had, together with her aunt’s and uncle’s, from a friend of Mrs. Haighte’s, had been greatly in her favor; and so, in spite of her homely face, with its keen, sullen black eyes, and the heavy, overshadowing hair, that made her so ugly, she stayed on, year after year, and her mistress be- came accustomed to her looks completely. It was Lida Hall that Undine Del Rose had mentioned to Mrs. St. Havens; Lida, who had years before worked for Mrs. Tem le, who had recommended the family to Mrs. Haighte. In those early days, when Undine visited often at the Temples’, when she and Lida and Clifford had not yet been fettered by the cour- tesies of a fashion that in later years forbade a son and daughter of wealth and aristocracy as- sociating with a maid of no name, particularly, had played together in Mrs. Judge Temple’s carriage-house, and built houses of kindling- wood, glad to escape the fine dresses and costly - ed awaiting them in the parlor. tween Undine and Lida had always existed a friendship, although Clifford had completely forgotten her; and, despite the difference in tlgir position, Undine had several times gone to sée her, with no particular reason therefor until the last two times; and then, in the plottings she had instituted, her far-seeing eyes had dis- cerned the fact that of all allies, of all confi- dantes, there was none on the earth so adapted, both by nature—for she had, with her astute perceptions, long ago read Lida Hall’s disposi- tion, which, being not unlike her own in some points, may explain their cold, calm friendship —and acquaintance as Lida Hall. The position she occupied in the Roscoe house- hold was simply splendid toward the further- ance of her plans; her frequent errands to The Towers was another satisfactory condition. It had been in September, on one of Undine’s visits—calls rather—at the Hall cottage, that she had seen Bertrand Haighte, in all his at- tractiveness and elegance, as he and Crystel had ridden along the road. To one of her disposition, it was enough mere- ‘ly to see him; and despite her pty § engage- ment with Mr. Temple, she made up her mind on the moment that she admired him greatly. Then she thought of him, waking and sleeping, until at last she resolved to win him. It seemed, perhaps, a most absurd and impos- sible idea; and to persons of ordinary concep- tions, it doubtless would have been. But Un- dite Del Rose was a woman of no common in- tellect; one, had it been trained in a noble, high- principled channel, would have made her a rare, glorious specimen of womanhood. There- fore, the more impassable the barriers, the more ame to surmount them; un- til, her whole soul fired with love for Bertrand Haighte, and a consequent natural hatred for Crystel Roscoe, she schemed and planned and arranged her mode of procedure. Several weeks previous to the day when she she had, on a day’s visit f ge—so Lida had named the unpretentious little four-room cott ‘been in- vited by Lida to go over to The Towers with her, on an errand for Miss Hellice to Mrs. _ Haighte’s housekeeper, for a recipe or some- t F j She had greedily accepted the invitation knowing that, as Mead was over at Eden- wilde, she could, pos prevail on the house- keeper to show her through the house; some- ie f ’ ‘can where there’s nothing but heay bend might accidentally transpire to assist her ans. R Her dress was as simple, apparently, as Lida’s own; and in the plain brown silk traveling dtess, with a large water-proof of Mrs. Hall’s around her, and her hair, for a rarity, fastened in a coil, and a brown vail doubled over her face and hands, she truly concluded that if, by acci- dent, she met Bertrand or any one else, they never would recognize her in after times when she might come boldly to The Towers in her new personnel, Certainly Undine Del Rose was audaciously presumptive; but it was both her presumption and audacity that should help to carry her through this campaign against Crystel Roscoe’s happiness. ida introduced her with all formality to the portly. housekeeper, Mrs. Bowen; -but her ears ad misled her. “Yes, I am pleased to meet your friend, Miss Rose. Won’t you walk up to the dining-room, Lida? My receipts are all there.” Undine’s heart swelled with joy at. the acci- dental misunderstanding. “It’s Fate in my favor already,” she had whispered to herself. “Tf you could spare the time, Mrs. Bowen, I would like to show this lady through the rooms.” “ And that’s just what I can’t do, at all. I’m sorry, but there’s all the maids gone to some fandango or other down to York, and I’m awful busy foldin’ up this linen.” ‘*Perhaps you will trust me to show her through? You know me, Mrs. Bowen; I’ll be particular.” ; The housekeeper deliberated a minute before she ee ‘Well, I don’t know asI care. Of course if Miss Crystel trusts you among all her finery, I furniture. Be careful now, Lidy, to lock all the doors agen.” A fiery red had come in spots to Undine’s cheeks at the half-suspicion, but she could afford rogether th t through the elegant ogether they went throu e elegant, spa- cious apartments, while Undies noted every ob- ject they passed. At last, having entered the corridor, out of which the doors of the family ig Ss had opened, Lida started to return to the dining- room, but Undine detained her. ‘*You haven’t taken me in these yet.” She was pointing at’ Bertrand’s room door. “But those are pe Mined Mrs. Bowen might not like it. It is ertrand’s,” ‘But let us go in—please, Lida.” - ‘No, indeed, I can not—’ A “T tell you I am going in; give me the eys. he was very calm, but Lida knew, of old, that red light in her eyes, as she took the keys from her hand. “T want you to come in. I want you partic- ularly.” And Lida followed her into Bertrand Haighte’s sleeping apartment. Undine gazed around, her eyes growing ten- der as they rested on the lace-ruffled iio where his head had rested; and with a soft, fleet step she stole up to the low rosewood bed- stead, and pressed a kiss on the unconscious linen. “Undine!” Lida called her name, half-angered, half- amused, *“ Yes, it is because I lovehim so. Now, Lida Hall, I want dr ea swear to me to keep a secret for me. Will you do it?” And then, standing in the very room where Bertrand had dreamed of_Crystel so many times, Undine told Lida Hall her love; her hopes; her resolves; her plans. ‘ And now, Lida Hall, I want you to aid me in my work. 1 will direct youin all things; you need have no mind of your own. Only be ided by me, and success will crown us both, bey, and the day you call me Mrs. Haighte, I will give you a check for a thousand dollars; refuse, Lida Hall, and my lips shall disclose the secret of your life that I hold! the child found choked to death; so dol. You know its mother, also its murderess? So do I. Now, Lida, which shall it be?” The girl’s face had changed to a dull, ashy pallor, as she looked up in Undine’s pitiless, pas- sionate eyes. Then she arose from the footstool and went up to Undine. “There can be no alternative. But I ask, is there blood to be shed? If so, you may kill me at your feet first.” You committed murder once; are you soft- dangerously ill; You know of | eS 9 hearted now? But for your comfort—no, I do not think of any such desperate measures. Lis- ten, let me tell you.” So she told her, in full detail, what must be done, in a low, eager voice, that sent creeping shivers down the listener’s back. “You seem surprised that I have obtained this knowledge; but I tell you, Lida, I believe Satan himself has aided me. Some day I will © tell you where I learned what to do; the next thing is to obtain possession of these papers.” * Lida went slowly after Undine down the stairs; on the landing she turned. “‘ You go first, and dot forget what you are to do?’ Then they went home, and in the gathering dusk, where no one ever met her, Undine went back to the city. One month later she had returned; and Lida Hall met her with a parcel. “‘T did not do as you directed, but have ac- complished what you bade me do.” ‘* Not as I said? “Fate planned it better. Mrs. Bowen has been sick of diphtheria, and is just recovering— is still only convalescing. There was no one to nurse her, the girls being away on their vaca- tion; my aunt is also on a visit, and Miss Crys- tel offered my services. I had the house to ea tter chance could have been of- ered? Undine stood, with wide eyes listening, a tri- umphant smile irradiating her face, as she clutched the papers. ‘‘T was so afraid Lawyer Allan was wrong; T have rir him five hundred dollars for his disclosure of the stronghold of this docu- ment. How little the Haightes dream of the perfidy of their talented, fashionable execu-— tor! Lina _leaned: her head wearily on her hands, while Undine was greedily running over the faded papers, and still holding a ring between her fingers. i “Tt is strange you found se ae I heard nm seen for lawyer Allan say it had not years.” ‘‘ It is because I searched the old secretary so thoroughly, I sup I must go lie down, Un- dine, I feel so wretched.” And her flushed face denoted her feelings. * i 9 Fh are getting the ie ae Heavens, Lida, what if my all-powerful star i in the ascendancy? You take this disease from Mrs. ae a vg our place as C: l Ros- coe’s maid ! ida, I hope, I pray you may have the diphtheria!” ewe " A little horrified cry broke from Lida’s lips. “Not that it will make any difference at all to my piané, for you know I intended bec a member of the Roscoe family by some means or other; only this is all so natural, so unex- pected. Remember, I shall return by to-mor- row night in answer to a telegram from you to Annette Willoughby—you will remember that — name, because your baby was to be named that in case it had lived. Whatever my aap oe betray no surprise; and satisty the Halls t at I am a sister of Joe Willoughby, your lover. You understand, Lida? Remember to propose me immediately to Miss Roscoe. And now, hoping to find you ill when I return in answer to a telegram, I will go directly home, to pre- pare my costume for this delightful bal m e" . With a low, heart-sick sigh, Lida Hall — watched her away, as she hastened down the lonely roadside to the station. | There Undine hired a horse; her slightly-disheveled toilet cracked looking-glass in the ladies’ saloon, she started forth to Edenwilde, on her mission of sin; from thence to The Towers, and then home, well satisfied as to her success. But at home the days wore on, and there came no telegram from Lida Hall; she wondered what it meant; she knew she dared not play — her false. ; And then, when Bertrand Haighte had visited her, she had felt so glad she was home to re- ceive him; after, when Clifford Temple had di- bh her falsity to him, she determined to go to Ti ida and :earn why she had been silent. Then had come the summons; and, after writ- ing a note to Mrs. St. Havens, stating that she © had received an urgent message from a sick schoolmate in Boston, and did not know but that she might remain several weeks, she started on her career. ; CHAPTER XII. and because of the nearn and, arrangi é by the little - WHAT WAS DONE. Date eo, ae Ir was true Lida Hall was illof diphtheria. ess fat Yi
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ig ‘ al is v es "i war eS 40 ¢ THE “MASKED BRIDE. her wedding, Crystel Roscoe had availed herself of Lida’s offer to send for Annette Willoughby. Mrs. Hall had herself carried the message to the office, and afterward kept her own counsel, at Lida’s suggestion, who told her thatif Miss Crystel knew that Annette was in any way acquainted with Miss Del Rose, she might not employ her after the affairs so well known to the family had transpired. Then the knowledge of Undine’s visits had been kept quite still, at Undine’s own request, long before this existing state of affairs; be- cause her pride revolted from the idea of it be- ing known that she visited a common servant. Therefore no suspicion existed at all; and even Mrs. Hall had not the first distant idea but that Annette Willoughby was merely recommended by Miss Del Rose. The affair of her niece with Joe Willoughby was a sealed page to her, hav- ing occurred while Lida was a year away at Lowell, in the factories, while Undine had been at a Massachusetts school, and to whom Lida had applied for money and aid. Thus Undine’s tracks were covered complete- ly; and she gua herself, not an ill-looking woman, with her light, flossy hair combed low on her forehead, and over it alace cap, jaunty and rather pretty. She had pasted a long, narrow strip of black court-plaster across her cheek, between the lips and chin; her complexion. was very dark, and a little sallow. _ A pair of blue glasses she asked permission to ' wear, saying she had been employed on fine embroidery so long that she could not bear the light yet, but hoped to leave them off in a few weeks, Tender-hearted Crystel told her it made not the slightest difference; hired her on Lida’s recommendation, and went on preparing for the wedding-day. _ Sunny-skied, frosty and quiet it dawned, and Crystel drew aside the lace curtains and looked abroad upon beautiful Edenwilde, she wondered if ever bride went forth from a fairer spot. Afar off, with the rsa lee Hudson be- tween, were the rugged brown walls of the stately Towers, surrounded by the tall trees, and lying against the sloping Highlands that stretched up to the intense blue sky as if seek- a al penetrate the happiness stored up for the e That was a blissful hour Crystel spent in sweet communion with her maiden heart, alone with nature, on the morning of her wedding- day. There did not seem the tiniest cloud on her horizon; and even when she thought of the fascinating stranger and her ominous warning, _ she calmly smiled, then whispered her psalm of ya that she had passed through the trial, | bitter though it was; for she loved Bertrand _ better than ever. All the morning was the delightful bustle of preparation; Hellice moved hither and thither, " gui ing and directing all the affairs, while _ Crystel, alone of them all, the most deeply con- cerned, sat wrapt in a delicious, idle, dreamy reverie. _With the noon train the guests began to ar Tive, and the spacious mansion was a scene of _ merry pleasantry, _ Later, after an informal lunch, came an early dinner; then the grand preparations for the ceremony that was to occur at the hour of eight, to be immediately followed by the departure of the married couple for the city, where they ' took an early morning steamer for Boston. It was a few minutes past six when, complete . in her wedding attire, Crystel lovingly dis- _ missed her sister and Bertrand, who had been - eagerly watching the process of part of the toilet, and assisting the Senne girl as her vail and wreath were being adjusted. Now Crystel had begged them to leave her, and with a kissand a whisper, Bertrand went away with Hellice. All that hour the guests were gathering in the saloon; a delightfully joyous noise filled the mansion, yet still the door of Crystel’s room re- mained locked. At exactly eight, General Ros- coe tapped, while directly after him, in regular order, stood the bridemaids; at the foot of the - stairs Bertrand, with his groomsmen, awaited the party. opened, and she came out, her vail drooping lowly. over her elegant sunny-gold hair, her -. eyes cast down, even though her vail covered _her face. She was pale as marble, but that was owing to excitement ewig She carried her filmy lace handkerchief in one white-gloved hand; and a tiny bouque the other. General -_ Roscoe gave her his arm with all the gallantry ofa man of thirty. ae aa A | ‘**We are waiting for you,my dear. The bishop came a quarter of an hourago. Onekiss, my little Crystel Roscoe, for the last time.” e lightly touched her forehead, without | raising the cloud of lace, and then they went down. At the foot of the staircase Bertrand took her from General Roscoe,and they promenaded slow- ly through the long, dim parlors that looked like fairy-land in its fragrant, dusky gloom— Crystel had wanted it so, fearing lest she should be nervous with a half-hundred pairs of eyes watching her in a full glare of light. She gent- ly pressed his arm, and he bent on her a glance of tenderest affection as they took their places on the floor—to be married; and in after days Bertrand shivered with horror as he remem- bered it. . The ceremony began; it ended, and Bertrand turned to kiss his bride. ‘“My wife, my darling wife!” She trembled just a second, then threw up her vail, and, stepping forward, looked defiantly around. Bertrand almost screamed. *“ Good God, what does this mean? Dei Rose !” A sudden rush forward of the guests; a mur- mur among them, as of an angry surge. Hel- , lice sprung forward with a deathly pale face. ey ere’s my sister, woman? how dare you, | how dare you!” | She dashed through the guests, her long silken dress trailing after her, to her sister’s room; while Bertrand and General Roscoe stood like | men turned to statues. Then the bridegroom aroused from the stupor he had been momentarily suffering, and ad- | vanced to Undine, who, caim, pale and collected, stood her well-won ground. “Woman! fiend! you shall answer for this! General, let us go to Crystel, the poor darling— hold, where is she?” Undine ‘* In her room,” she returned, calmly. _ The men started tothe door, whither half of the guests had rushed to learn of Crystel, when suddenly General Roscoe turned about. ‘‘Don’t let her go—ah, by Heavens, she has disappeared |” It was even so; and on the carpet lay the vail | and long shiny locks of golden hair. For a | second, a silence, amounting to fearful intense- vess, reigned; then General Roscoe sprung to an open French window. ‘*She has gone through this, the demoness!” It seemed true, for a fragment of white satin | was clinging toa jagged point in the iron bal- cony. CHAPTER XIII. AFTER THE BRIDAL. Hetwticn, closely followed by Bertrand and General Roscoe, had hurried up the stairs to the door of Crystel’s room; it was unlocked, and they rushed in, fearing, wondering what they should see. And then, when Hellice had reached midway the room, aloud scream burst from her lips, as, rigid as marble, with the blood curdling round her heart, she met her sister, coming up through the ae distance of the long suit, so pale, so pitiful! ‘‘Tam so bewildered, sister! where have I been? where is Bertrand?” She passed her hand over her forehead in a gesture of pee self-inquiry. And just at that aged the startled mem- bers of the household, headed by General Ros- coe and Bertrand, followed by a number of the guests, entered the room to discover the cause of the shrieks that had awakened them. General Roscoe suddenly paused in his hasty entrance, as his eyes fell on Bis youngest daugh- ter’s figure; and a silence of fear and awe fellon them all; a silence that Crystel was the first to break. | “ Oh, father, won't you tell me what it means? I surely have not been ill, have I? or how else came my hair short?” And then General Roseoe caught her in his arms, and the speli seemed lifted off them all. ‘*My child. what does it mean? Where did A second elapsed; and then the door was you leave Bertrand—how came this splendid air shorn so closely ?” **Oh, Bertrand! where_has he gone? why doesn’t he come and see if I am ready for the wedding? It seems as if I was all dressed once, and waiting for you totapon the door. I know. I felt very faint all at once—I suppose it has only been a dream.” . ‘‘A dream!” thundered the General, “it is an infernal game! Crystel, my child, you have not been married Bertrand Haighte! The | ceremony was performed, but between him and | box, and oblige, another—oh, God! we can’t see through this Crystel, my daughter, Bertrand has married some one else! but it shall all be made right,” She stood like a statue of marble. Some—one—else?” Slowly the words dropped from her lips. Then Hellice, with her quick returning fore- sight, stood up and spoke quietly and convinc- ingly. Me tt has been a plot; Ithink I comprehend at least a portion of it. Bertrand, will you at- | tend Crystel to another room? and see that John goes immediately after Dr. Bellanger? I will write to have the woman arrested.” — ; But Bertrand could speak no words of cheering ) assurance to his love; for, when Hellice turne toward him, they all, saw that he had fainted just as he had ascended the stairs. | Several hours later, when Bertrand had : aroused from the deadly swoon, he explained, as best he could, the probable reason for the ; strange affair. Afterward, so soon as the ex- | citement subsided, the guests retired to their rooms, while Clifford Temple, pale and speech- less from the supreme horror of the occasion, aced up and down the front piazza till the gray 1 lawn. Up-stairs, in Crystel’s room, Annette Wil- loughby was sitting in the gloom, watching her mistress as she slept, and listening to the measured tread below that she knew so well.’ The next morning she wrotea short note, and this was its contents: “Mr. SAMUEL GREENLEAF! ‘*Please direct and drop the inclosed ee in the The cipher. “*For your sweetheart, eh, Annie?” the letter man had said, when she gave it to him; and she laughed and simpered. But several hours later Lawyer Allan in- Fagin at Station C if there was a letter there or his coachman, Samuel Greenleaf; and then, an hour later still, he mailed the ‘‘inclosed” at another station; and when he had translated it, in accordance with the cipher he had been in- structed with, by Undine Del Rose, it read: ' ‘Bertrand Haighte, The Towers,” ; And Lawyer Allan rubbed his hands, and thought not only of the fat fees Miss Del Rose | paid, not of his own consummate perfidy and treachery to the Haightes, but that thesplendid Undine had promised to consider him, in a mat- rimonial view. At midday, Bertrand received nis letter, and this was what it said: “Tf you want to be righted, come to the Orienta} Hotel to-day, at four P.M. , UNDINE.” That afternoon, Annette had gone into her mistress’s room just after midday. / ‘Could you spare me till dinner to-day, Miss Crystel? Ihave an errand in Brooklyn that’s tay particular.” ; She went down to New York on the thre o’clock train; purchased a walking suit complete at Mme. Oliphant’s establishment, and then, stillin her disguise, went to the hotel. Once in the room she had asked for, she care- fully removed all traces of Annette Willough- by, then called the waiter and bade him show Mr. Haighte—whom the man knew well—to her. Then she sat down and waited. ‘“‘inclosed” was a letter directed in CHAPTER XIV. is A STORMY INTERVIEW. SHE had not long to wait; for, on the stroke of the hour, Bertrand Haighte opened the door; pale, frigid, angered. : ‘*T am here, Undine Del Rose.” He never bowed, or otherwise acknowledged | her presence. 7 ‘No. I am Undine Del Rose no longer. I, have the honor of being Mrs..Haighte, of The i Towers. Oh, Bertrand! Bertrand!” and her tones lost their slight touch of sarcastic tri- { umph, and sunk to a low, entreating murmur, , f “don’t quite hate me! I have but one excuse, “i and that is my love for you. Notging else 4 / would have warranted the awful risk Ihave | — run. And see, Bertrand, Providence has sig- nally favored me, for not even you read my identity.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, and looked i up in his face, as white as death, with eyes that = wou have,annihilated her, had that been pos- — | sible. He dashed her off with a gesture of ineffable scorn and disgust. : A 4 bone touch mae don’t eee the Pains “4 b name of the Almighty with those false, lying = lips! Say rather that ‘Basse and en his angels, er have ai Wo- its im ed you in this fiendish scheme! *
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THE MASKED BRIDE. man—tell me how you dared do it; tell me, be- fore I crush all your life out of you!” He advanced a step toward her, his hot breath flaming on her cheeks. ‘Bertrand, be reasonable. Remember, J am your bride, married to you "a every law that the land demands. Listen, Bertrand, while I humble myself to you, and beg and pray you to love me a—” _ Silence! not a word of such blasphemy from your lips! I command you, tell me what you mean—the woman I hate and abhor! the wo- man who shall never be my wife, despite all your infernal machinations.” Undine smiled defiantly. ‘‘And suppose I refuse to listen to your de- mand?” ‘“Then I will wrench itfrom you! What did you do to my betrothed?” ; ‘¢ A strange question for a husband to ask his wife!” “You madden me! JyouRhusband? Never, if you were the last woman on God’s earth. You, the arch fiendess, my wife? who has crush- ed my happiness the second time? Not if I could thereby earn your eternal salvation!” ‘‘T am sorry you persist in this style of lan- uage. Bertrand, doesn’t it move you in the east when you know what I have dared to do for your sake?” ‘ e paced to and fro while she was speaking; then he stopped before her. : : “Does if move me? Yes, with infinite pity and tenderness when I think of my crushed Crystel; moved to scorn and disgust when I look at you, with all the beauty you have used to cover your wickedness.” “You thought and spoke differently the even- ing you speyt in Lexington avenue; the morn- ing we rod#in the Central Park.” blush of angry shame flooded his face. “Tf I was infatuated then, I am disenchanted now! I thank God you have no legal claim on me now!” She laughed lightly. aa Ihave. Are we not lawfully mar- ried? ‘‘Married?’ He fairly thundered the word. “Never will I admit it! Before the whole world I will proclaim your treachery!” She extended her hand, on which glittered the curious green-and-scarlet-veined jewel. “You do not regard this? You are no longer afraid of it?” } He grasped her slender wrist, and tore the ring from her finger. : ; ‘Should I fear an impostor, a thief, as I be- lieve you to be? or a ring that is my own, and that never wrought me any harm?” A sudden, intense light shot from her eyes, and she compressed her lips a moment before she answered. ‘Tt may never yet have wrought harm, butI swear that it shall. Now, Bertrand Haighte, what are we to do?” He curled his lips contemptuously. “T neither care to know, or feel at all inter- ésted in your future movements. J shall take the first train to Edenwilde, and further expose this treachery. Andif harm comes to Crystel Roscoe, woe to you!” He never vouchsafed her a pance as he went out, and as the door closed after him, his part- ing words echoed on her ear: ‘ Woe to you !” Was it a curse or a prophecy? And so far. her deeply-plotted plans, her superhuman effort that had been so tantalizingly crowned with success, had come to this! She walked up and down and around that elegant room; while, like a keen poniard at her heart, was the bitter, unendurable anguish of the knowledge that he did not love her—never would love her. She sunk down, exhausted, on one of the _ sofas, cursing the luckless fate that had lured » her on to fondly hope and believe he would for- _ get Crystel Roscoe, his first love, the moment e saw her. “‘Thave been worse than mad! I have been too hasty; I havethwarted what long-suffering patience might have accomplished. And now, now he despises me; while I—oh, I shall die for the want of his love!” : A look of unutterable despair came over her ' Tace. ; : ' “And while I've been engaged, heart an soul, in seeking to win this man; while I craze my brains in scheming, planning and contriv- _ ing, [ve hst the other, who, before I saw Ber- _trand Haighte, I loved as I thought I never could love again. Clifford Temple has passed _ heyond my reach; these accursed, won Hin, too! And J, Zam alone, unloved, de- r x > ey, x Haightes have | -protectress, what sb spised! I can not bear it; Iwill die! My brain is scorching, and my heart—my poor, trampled heart—that is broken and bleeding!” And all that long, dreary night she sat there; and the fire burned itself away to a handful of ghostly ashes; the light was turned down by some one below as the day came on. In the cold, gray dawn of that winter’s morn- ing, shivering and numb, she still sat on; the stages began to go rattling by; the hum and bustle of a waking city grew gradually louder, and yet Undine never moved from her posi- tion. . ° After an hour or so, the chambermaid ga for admission; that aroused her, and she called to her to come in an hour. She was fearfully changed, and a faint cry of horror issued from her blue lips as she looked at herself in the mirror. es os fall on him forever, who has wrought is Her eyes had seemed to freeze; from a warm, liquidly passionate light in their dark depths they had turned to a hard, steely blackness, with neither soul or expression in them; around her mouth were deep tense lines, that forty years of life would hardly have draw there. But worse than all, and so horrible it was that she gazed at it in a bewildered, frightened stare, was her long, thick hair, that, when she entered that room was black as a raven’s wing, and now hung in yellow-white luxuriousness over her shoulders. She felt herself wrecked; wrecked in appear- ance, as well as in heart, and, with the sight of her ruin, fled the last vestige of life in the pas- sionate love for Bertrand Haighte, which she had been all the night through killing. With clenched fists, she gazed back into her dull, deadened eyes. “For this ll make him rue the day! Iswore once to be his bride; I am his bride, and now I swear unsleeping vengeance against my hus- band! And before I see him in the arms of A eae esc fool he dared prefer above me— Pll lay him in his coffin, with myself, dead, across it!” She deliberately arose and arranged her false flossy hair; her storm of passion was spent, and her hands were untrembling as she wound coil after coil around her shapely head; she adjusted the blue glasses, and then removed the black al- paca walking-suit. This she did up ina bundle, and donned the garments she had worn from Edenwilde; and the bride of a day went forth, husbandless, de- r eee alone; possessed of a fearful strength, that would not hesitate tostrike any blow that would remove from her path the obstacle that hindered her one object of the now lonely ex- istence. That object was—REVENGE! CHAPTER XV. DID SHE LOSE IT? Ir the family at Edenwilde were all up in arms about the strange events of the preced- ing night, the household at The Towers were in a similar state, particularly their guest, Clifford Temple. At first he could not seem to comprehend it, so suddenly and mysteriously had it all hap- pened; then, when the truth gradually made it- self clear, he started at once for the city. ‘You know not this girl as well asI; nor her disposition. She will not give you up, so long as she has the faintest claim upon you,” he said to Bertrand, as he stopped for a moment at Edenwilde, where he found Crystel and young Haighte in the parlor. Bertrand was pacing the floor like a chained tiger, who cannot brook another instant’s con- finement. ‘‘ But, man, has she no delicacy thus to thrust herself upon me? Where is her womanhood that it does not cry out upon her?” Temple’s answer wasa gloomy laugh. ‘* Natures like hers know no reason when their will determines to attain to any object. I have known the girl since she was a child, and I can say, with truth, she is the most passionate-tem- pered person I ever.saw.” ‘But a divorce can be obtained; ‘it is merely a question of time.” , ‘Yes, but you may depend upon it, that she will never leave you to yourself.” Crystel’s eyes grew bright with the anger in their depths. “Undine Del Rose dare not cross his path j Let her but attempt it, and I will find a way to remove her.” Bertrand smiled upon her. ' + ‘“‘ With so loving and brave a champion and uld I dread, Temple?” , he , be on 4 ‘ == S*% > a ~ . ~— 2 ys | ried him \ Soe s=s 144 ‘‘T hope my words will prove an idle song. I fear— But let us not court such uncomfortable thoughts. There comes your maid with your _ shawl; the room seems chilly.” Tt was Annette, but no one noticed her. ; “T shall have to bid you good-morning, Miss Crystel; andifI carry Bertrand to the city, Metal believe it is for his own and your good’ But, after they were gone, Crystel grew strangely at unrest, and walked to and fro in the long room for an hour. . ‘‘'You are nervous, sister; this drug you have taken, whatever it is, has unstrung you some- what; had you not better lie down till Bertrand returns?’ So Crystel went to her room, and Hellice sat down-stairs at her sewing. Perhaps the girl lay several minutes; then she arose and dressed herself. ‘‘ Hellice, have you any commission for me at The Towers? Iam going over for the after- — ; noon.” Miss Roscoe laid down her work and g anxiously at the flushed cheeks and bright ey tA ‘“‘T fear you are not. well, Crystel. Do you — think you are strong enough to venture over 4 alone? You had better let Peter go with you.” _ “Oh, no, I’d rather go by myself. Besides, Hellice, I am going to have company home.” _ | She was assisted todress by Annette, whom _ she had come to like in preference to Lida, who, though recovered from the throat disease, was still a victim to a light, disagreeable fever. { a ‘You had better let me go too, Miss Crystel,” Annette asked, very solicitously. ane) “There is no need, indeed. If you want a turn in the warm sunshine, you can spend an hour or so, till I get back, down at Lida’s.” f “Yes, ma’am, I will, and much obliged.” 4 e So off went Crystel, her sister watching her from the window out of sight; then she turned, — retraced her steps, and walked up to the depot, and bought a ticket for New Wonks ¢ She had just reached the entrance-gate, when Annette locked the door, and hastily retired to her own room; one she occupied alone. ‘* All the disguise I need will be to arrange this gray hair of mine, and powder my face as white asI can. These heretofore tell-tale eyes a ya have done their last mischief, curse im And, indeed, in her pels dark dress and ~ sacque, the puffs of grey air, the dull lustrous — eves no one, not even Clifford Temple or Mrs. | t. Havens herself, would have known her. — She had plenty of time to get to the station; — and b going down a side-entrance, she met no one of the family servants. ie “T wonder if ay OO arecorrect? Could _ she have gone to The Towers? or did I readher ~ thoughts aright, and see herfrom her own win- dow asshe hastened back this way? Atany rate, — if she’s not at the depot—and what she meansby going, is more than even I can tell; however, — she shall never get out of mia sight while I have — the power to watch her—asI said, if she’s notat | the depot, it’s easy coming home again.” | _, Sate were Annette’s thoughts as she hurried along. ; B At the window stood Crystel, softly tapping — the glass with her kid-gloved fingers; then the — train came rushing in. Crystel laced her hand | in her pocket to take from thence her portmon- | naie, that she never deemed safe ina crowd out | of her hands. + Once in the train, she replaced it, and found, | to her vexation, that she had lost both her hand- kerchief and a valued pen-knife—a gold-and- Spc Bewneie one, that had been a present from ellice zone before, when she was a school- girl, and that bore her initials, C. R., hand- — somely engraved, She uttered a littleexclama- _ tion, and the lady who sat next her looked up from the afternoon paper she was reading. ‘* Have you lost your money?” Pe It was a rather strained, harsh voice, and Crystel glanced at the massive gray puff of ~ hair that filled the inside of her bonnet; a small — * iia we sacque and dark dress; the cotton gloves; _ he brown vail; in her inquisitive way, before _ she answered. <a ‘*No, thank you. Only my handkerchief and 4 pen-knife.” : (van Then she leaned toward the window, and ~ dismissing the thought of her trifling loss, was | | soon deep in the plans that had led her to thus © | secretly go to the city. She had but one ob- ject, and that was, knowing where Bertrand | ad gone, to follow, and thus satisfy herself as to whether ti ange, bold girl who had mar m had any designs on his life, | he had repulsed her love. — . Crystel loved Bertrand greatly, and it was the ? .
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ue % ez It is enough to give their orders. my _- They crossed over the city in the horse-cars, nas Ps be partly recompensed when I see her proud ox + prisoner. week at furthest. You are willing?” : =: Me ‘ = 12 : ~ love that urged her on; that compelled her, as it were, to follow the sudden, powerful impulse to go. What caused her to first think of it she knew not then; only in after days did she know it was the iron finger of her inevitable fate that drew her whithersoever it would. But, after all her coming to she city, she was unable to find Bertrand; he had changed his mind as to the route he should take, and Crys- tel, after visiting sevcral stores and offices where both were acquainted, returned to the depot, and reached Edenwilde a half-hour before the gentlemen. She was a little nervous, and in her endeavors to preserve her innocent little secret, she at- tracted the ever-watchful attention of Hellice; and although she made no remarks, she won- _ dered what was the matter with Crystel. At a late hour the household retired, and Ber- trand and Clifford returned to The Towers. CHAPTER XVI. A NIGHT’S WORK. Tr being Annette Willoughby’s monthly af- -ternoon “out,” she had, on her return from the - city at six o’clock, gone across the bleak lawn from the depot to the Riverside Lodge; there --was sternness and unrest n her face that Lida remarked the moment she opened the door. _ “Ts any one at home?” she asked, as she en- tered. *- No one but myself ; and I am an impatient I hope to take my old ition in a Annette’s lips curled. ‘Delighted; for lam sickened to death of it all, since my miserable failure.” -“How ever you dared to do it,” said Lida half-admiringly. ‘‘You have a wonderful brain; did you know it, Annette?” “T shall not admit that until I bring that creature down low! Oh, Lida, I hate her with a hatred beside which common dislike is the highest love! I must crush her,I shall crush her, and for your co-operation I am here to- half-frightened look crept over Lida’s face; it always did when Undine—Annette we are bound to call her—talked of further revenge. “You are strong enough to do what I ask. First, I have in my trunk that is here my best silk suit, all my jewels and money; besides my best under-clothing, my watch and chain. These, I am confident, will fit you; put them on, Lida, and go with me to the city to-night. I will wear my alpaca suit, and go as your maid.” The girl looked woefully out of the window at the coming storm, presaged by the dull, leaden \ sky, the shrieking wind and the intense cold. © You will tell me why, Annette? what I am to do?” Annette laughed scornfully. ‘‘Do masters generally explain to servants? I expect you to go—that is Of course you are at perfect liberty to refuse; you know the penalty, how- ever. For my part, I flying trip to New York than disgrace, perhaps _ the prison; the gallows, for all I know.’ ** Merey, Annette! Why need you be so cruel? O€ course I will go. What hour shall I meet you at the station?” “ At seven to-night, and there’s no time to spare; and remember that Mrs. Hall is to think you are alone, if she need know any thing.” ' It was just in time to take the 7.10 down train that the women met at the station: and together they were hastened along, neither speaking to the other. and from thence to one of the down-town fer- ____ ries, where Annette led the way into the ladies’ _._-waiting-room, now deserted, for it was nearly ten o’clock. : “Now, Lida, I will tell you why I have pkgs oo * Sa here. Itis simply for the immedi- ate furtherance of my plans. Lida, Crystel Roscoe shall suffer for her love for Bertrand - Haighte; suffer because he loves her, and I shall head brought low!” Lida shrunk back into the dim corner. “Oh, Annette! Annette!” Annette looked up at her. ‘¢- You are shocked to learn what an enemy I can be? Be careful I am never yours, then, Lida.” _ *T know something dreadful is coming! Oh, Annette, for the love of sweet mercy, don’t make me plunge any deeper in sin than I am!” us “Hush! this is not the place for sentimental - farce, though it may be for high tragedy. ‘ . would much prefer a_ 7 THE MASKED BRIDE. Se RA RES SSI SE OE STE REET AT SS | Lida, Orystel has got to be put out of the way, and, hark you, you must do it!” Like a hunted deer, close followed by the pit- iless hounds, Lida’s breath came and went in quick, short jerks. Her eyes were strained open, horror-held, as she heard the sickening words fall from Undine Del Rose’s lips. Then a long, awful silence fell between them, broken only by the creaking of the pier and the sullen splash of the waters against the dock; for the wind was rising higher and higher, and the brewing storm closing more densely over the dark landscape. ‘¢ Well! you will do it, or—” She never finished the sentence, for, with a ery of despair, Lida sprung from her seat. ‘Never! sooner than that, Pll be a prisoner all my days! sooner than that, I’d bring my life to its everlasting close!” And witha quick-drawn breath, she rushed out on the swaying pier; a second’s pause as she turned to Undine. ‘“ My blood be upon your head!” Then she sprung silently into the crashing, frothy waters; once she rose, her eyes wildly opened, as if imploring Heaven’s forgiveness; and then she sunk again; and Undine saw a long bloody streak on her head as she was about to turn away. With all her bravery, her diabolical strength, she shivered and trembled as she could barely retrace her steps. A horse-car passing took her up, and she went on, breathing freer amid the Sm srn epi of other living mortals. that long ride back to the Hudson River Depot she rejoiced at the success of her plan; for it had been her intention to goad Lida Hall on to despair; until she should either destroy herself in an utter frenzy, or accede to her de- mands; for either answer she was prepared to act. Now her first duty was to write a note to Jacob Hall’s wife, and drop it in the letter-box; thus, by being mailed in New York, she would mislead any suspicion that might arise as to her intimacy with Lida. Yor herself, she had taken good care that no one should know of her ab- sence from Edenwilde. This she had done by lighting her lamp before she went out, that would shine out-in the darkness as if she were within. She knew there would be no demands on her, as it was her own time exclusively. She wrote the note at the depot, with a pen- cil, on a piece of newspaper margin: ‘Dear AuNT ELLEN:—I went down to New York this afternoon, and meeting with Joe in A have heard me mention him—I have decided to go with him to the West. We will be married before we start, Please tell Annette. , Lipa.”’ Undine knew Lida’s handwriting well enough to mislead the eyes of uncle and aunt Hall, who would not grieve particularly on account of their niece, as no especial love had existed be- tween them. This letter she dropped in the box—Undine generally carried envelopes and stamps—and then took the last train It was nearly twelve when she reached home; the lights were burning in the parlor, and she heard voices in conversation. Back of the house she crept, in the shadow, and to the side-door, that led to the servants’ hall; and, unobserved, she reached her room. CHAPTER XVII. FOUND MURDERED. Ir was a cold, rainy, gloomy evening, when all New York seemed rae to stay in-doors for the nonce; horse-cars glided over the rails with few or no passengers, and the policemen at the corners drew the rubber coats higher up around their necks and their caps lower down over their foreheads, evidently wishing their lines had fallen in pleasanter places. It was just the time for villainy and crime to stalk forth; you could almost imagine every eh ea solitary figure a burglar or a mur- erer. Away down by one of the wharves, a crowd, of people, a rough, ill-favored set, were gath- ered, gaping at a solemn something that men were wing up out of the water. At last the still burden was laid, almost rev- erently by those men, on the wet and slippery boards, and the crowd closed around it and looked down on the dead woman, with her long eo hair clinging about her slight, grace- form, and her black silk dress all wrapped in tight folds about her. Rings sparkled on her fingers; a, massive watch-chain, and a tiny watch depending from it; in her pocket was _a letter, and a dainty handkerchief and ® POrtmonnaie. All these were carefully taken care of by the proper authorities, and the body, swollen and bloated past possible personal recognition, was carried to the Morgue. And the news spread, as such news will, and all the sooner because the victim was evidently wealthy and aristocratic. People came to identify—not the body—for human skill could never have done that, but the clothing, the jewels and shoes. When astylish, elegant lady in her barouche came _ weeping away from the dead girl, they showed her the letter, the handkerchief, and the weapon that was supposed to have taken her life. Poor rs, St. Havens! she had felt so hurt at Undine the night of her sudden departure; and now, so soon after, she found her, murdered! dressed in the same elegant clothes she had left home in. The portmonnaie empty, for Undine had spent her change in car fare; the web of a handkerchief, with ‘“‘U. D. R.” embroidered in a corner; a letter, one of Undine’s own passion- ate outpourings to her recreant admirer; and there, horribly—infinitely worse than all—was the death-wound on her throat, and the elegant little bijou of a penknife, all ornamented with gold and ebony, that was rusted over in blood, : and that lay under the bosom of the murcered girl’s dress, a penknife bearing the initials ‘ ©. R ” d It was too horrible, and the dearest friend Undine had ever known wept and raved like a madwoman, till they carried her away to her lonely home. Later the inquest was held, and it was decided that ‘‘ Undine Del Rose had been fully identi- fied by Mrs. St. Havens, and was believed to have come to her death by a wound in the head, committed by some unknown person, probably with a penknife marked ‘C. R.’” That was the im papers Bertrand Haighte and Clifford Temple read itat The Towers. It hardly seems possible to describe the effect of the news, to them so awfully sudden. Ber. trand seemed almost stupefied. ‘*Murdered! Good God, who has done it} ‘Cc. R ’—merciful Heaven, Clifford, Crystel has a pen—” He paused, a gray pallor rushing over his face, his eyes almost starting from bis head. Clifford shivered as he laid down the paper. ‘‘T think it has been suicide. Poor, wayward, sionate child! she must have loved you, Ber- trand” But Haighte’s ears were sealed—he was only thinking, thinking of the horrible agony that had come like a eee to his mind, Then he clutched Clifford’s arms in his excite- ment. ‘Suicide? of course; but don’t you see— oh! don’t you see, she has murdered herself with what I solemnly believe to be Crystel’s knife? She has either stolen it or caused a coun- terfeit to be made after she had seen it. Oh, the fiend, the demoness! See how it will criminate my poor, hunted darling.” Boh he to and fro, his eyes wearing a wild, horrified expression. Clifford started from his chair when Bertrand had pee his own face wearing an aspect of trouble and anxiety. “Let us go straight to Edenwilde and get Crystel’s knife. Of course she has it, and with it in our possession, we can deiy suspicion—i suspicion there be. Again, Bertrand, the time when this deed was committed must have been, as the attending physician swore, the very day we went to New York, and while Crystel was ay The Towers.” His face lighted up as he thus disposed of the case to his own satisfaction. Then he smiled outright. aif “Tye just thought how extremely ridiculous we are to dare even think of connecting Ciys- tel in this affair. Bertrand, we are insulting ” er. But a coldness had seized the very vitals of — the young lover. 4 But there will be an investigation, and I, as a law-student, can see through it all better than your unaccustomed eyes. ho, in the eyes of the world, would so be Undine’s natural enemy rather than my Crystel? All our private lite will be exposed to the hungry gaze of sensation- al-article readers; the whole world will know more of Crystel and Undine and I than we know ourselves.” “But, by producing Crystel’s knife and see- ing the authorities, we can put a stop to any in- i7dstigniions, can’t we?” “Tf we can prove where my darling has been : every moment since Undine left her home, I have all hopes.” _ Re ; rt of the verdict, and in the —
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i i ee THE MASKED BRIDE. ———— er ——— 432 ‘Then, let us go to Edenwilde without an in- stant’s delay.” At Crystel Roscoe’s home the news had not yet been received; the morning papers lay still unfolded on the stand, and Hellice and her sister were feeding the canaries. They turned around as the two gentlemen en- tered, and without a word of salutation, Ber- trand strode up to Crystel. ‘For God’s sake, give me your penknife!” She blushed a little, suddenly remembering that she had lost it on her recent journey; then she grew a little terrified at Bertrand’s wild manner, no less than his language. He impatiently laid his hand on her shoul- der. ‘‘ Don’t keep us waiting; your penknife, with the initials on.” Hellice had drop the lump of sugar, and looked at the two in wonderment. Then Clif- ford explained: ‘‘ You have not read the pa- rs, ladies? If you had you could appreciate ertrand’s unusual excitement. Let me beg of you, Miss Crystel, to accede to the request.” Hellice snatched up the paper, at the same time remarking, rather haughtily—‘‘I am sure I can not see why the:paper should affect either my sister or her property.” 2 But I can’t give it to you—I—have—lost— it A cry fell simultaneously from the lips of the oung men; and the girl blushed to think she ad thus to confess at this late day what she had hoped Hellice never would know. “‘Oh, no! no, my darling, give it to me, for the love of heaven! for the sake of your own sweet life!” Bertrand’s ey agonizing words alarmed her; and she looked Sppealingly at her sister. Hellice had read the awful lines, and was staring in white wonderment at Crystel, then by some mighty effort, spoke: eee? you any idea where your knife was lost? Then Crystel knew she must confess her stolen visit. “ At the station, or near there, I fear.” ‘¢ When?” demanded Bertrand. “Last Thursday, the day you went to New York.” , “Yes,” and a hopeful light showed itself in Clifford’s eyes. ‘‘The afternoon you spent at The Towers, I think you said?” Crystel blushed ape © there. IknowlI said so. Bertrand, my dar- ling, please don’t be angry. I went to New York!” Then, with a hollow groan, the young gyre to ae rie ae Baste ; ‘Oh, my Crystel, my darling! elp you God help you ah ‘ Clifford was about to speak, but Hellice inter- rupted him, and wentup to her sister, and laid her hands on her shoulder. “‘T comprehend it all. Crystel, that paper says Undine Del Rose is murdered—there, don’t look so white, my poor child; she was murdered the very afternoon that you were at New York, and your penknife, we fear, was found on her person.” She spoke with a dreadful calmness, and Crystel shivered, but a not a word. Evi- dently the suspicion had not taken hold of her, as yet. ell, what more?’ “T did not go we Hellice looked down into the pure, frightened eyes. ‘*Can you not see that it is only a matter of time as to when yow shall be arrested on sus- picion? Oh, my Father in Heaven, she is dying —Ihave killed her!” For with the full force of that kind] blow, the girl’s senses had mercifully fled. And out in the hall, amid all the confusion, Annette Willoughby smiled at the scene. “And Vl swear I heard her say she’d ‘find a way to remove her!’ ” . cruel CHAPTER XVIII. DARK DAYS. _ THE body of the unfortunate girl, after the necessary formula of law had been gone through with, was conveyed to Mrs. St. Havens’s resi- dence and from there buried, in all the style be- fitting her station in life. Then the house had been darkened, the funeral guests departed, and Mrs. St. Havens, in her sable robes, paced the floor in restless grief, Although not three days had elapsed since the body was discovered, the world was familiar _ with the facts elicited at the inquest; and, des- ite the power and position of the families at he Towers and Edenwilde, dark rumors and suspicions were flying the rounds of the news- papers, while 0..e or two of the sensational il- lustrated weeklies had woven a romantic story, and heralded it before the hungering public eye. It seemed strange; passing strange that all this trouble had come so suddenly upon so many people; and while the outside world were hover- ing before they alighted on their prey, the lit- tle world at the homesteads on the Hudson were half paralyzed with grief and fear. : General Roscoe, at the very beginning of the trouble, had had his lawyer down at Eden- wilde; while able detectives had been set to work to discover if other enemies than the sup- posed had been at work. Bertrand Haighte, almost beside himself with grief and horror, had instantly gone down to Lawyer Allan: and in blissful ignorance of | the perfidy and deceit of his trusted legal ad- | viser, had poured the story of his agony in his ears; probably more as a friend than, a client. To his s rise, he found Lawyer Allan as stricken with grief at the untoward fate of pete Del Rose as was Bertrand at Crystel’s er. To his greater surprise, the man refused his counsel, and even asserted his own conviction that Crystel bad murdered the girl in a fit of revengeful anger. Bertrand turned, in passionate indignation, to theman. ‘I wonder how you dare utter such words to me, sir. You, who have enjoyed the confidence of my family these many years, to desert the standard when the first fight threat- ens. Mr. Allan, I beg you will make ready whatever account you have against me, and make a full return of all the papers and docu- ments. I shall transfer my business to another firm. rr , g0od-morning.” And Bertrand walked indignantly out of the office, while the lawyer watched him with red- dened cheeks and kindling eyes; then, when he was out of sight, his anger found vent. “Take your business wherever you please, but remember you have bearded the lion in his den! You may have hated her, but I loved her. You may seek to cover the guilt of the girl who took her precious life, but it sha!l be my task to convict her before the world! Ur on by love and hate—most poten. powers that sway the heart of man, I shall succeed! I have thwarted you before to-day, Bertrand Haighte, ig! es darling’s sake! Ishallthwart youagain or i He gathered up the business documents of Bertrand’s, and summoned his confidential mes- senger to take the first train for The Towers. en he donned his hat; called a carriage, and drove straight to Mrs. St. Havens’s. When he re-entered the carriage that had waited over three hours, his face betokened his triumph. “T shall succeed in avenging my Undine’s death! And now for work, earnest work!” It had been no difficult matter for Bertrand to secure the services of the world-famed firm of Trask & Trask; and although he had at first thought there possibly might be some way of es- cape for Crystel, he was convinced the moment he left Lawyer Allan that an action would be brought against Crystel for the charge of mur- der, preferred by Mrs. St. Havens. It was a week before it was done; a week of such agony at Edenwilde as few of earth’s chil- dren are called to endure. And then it came; for all it had been feared and expected, it fell like a thunderbolt, when, with all due formality, yet respectful mien, the officer of the law rode out to Edenwilde in his close carriage, attended by his deputies, to ar- rest Crystel Roscoe! Iaall the pitiful loveliness of her striking girl- hood, she was taken to the city; by her side, more tender and loving than her wont, the | faithful sister remained, while General Roscoe and Bertrand followed in their carriage. All these past days Crystel had lived in a sort of a pathetic stupor; she had not seemed to be conscious of her danger; she was not at all alarmed or worried; simply calmly indifferent. She knew that she was suspected of the most horrible crime that can be mentioned, and yet she was not moved thereby. ‘“ Why should I weep as you do? I am inno- cent, and why should T suffer? Only for you and papa, and poor dear Bertrand!” Then her lips would quiver, but she would bravely smile in her sister’s heart-broken face. In all her fair, delicate beauty she faced the | surging sea of eyes that filled the court-room; her sweet face, more girlish than ever since the agony that had paled it, her tender, wistful eyes, her red, trembling lips and flushed cheeks were stronger proofs of her innocence to many a keen-eyed man than all the array of evidence against her. . pie: ag Ne tt ie eae OC a ee ¥ | that seemed a flash of We need not weary the reader with a detailed : account of that long, tedious week of keenest, intensest suspense; when the flattering hopes, ’ the bligh fears hightened, then de- | pressed their spirits; how, when. the nights came, and they took the prisoner to her cell, she , and Hellice wept in each other’s arms, while the lover and the father paced the long corridor in distracted anguish. Every effort had been made to have her con- veyed to a hotel at night; bail for her appear- ance had been instantly offered to the extent of a half-million dollars; but it was not accepted. The offense’ was a capital one, and to the com- mon cell, under the roof with common felons, Crystel had to go. The warder’s wife had done allshe could for — the poor girl’s comfort, and it was almost touch- _ ing to see the attempts she had made to hide the staring prison-look of the dingy rooms. A strip of gay renee rug was spread on the floor, white sheets and a lace-edged pillow-case were on the cot; a little curtain was hung to hide the iron bars of the window, and two cushioned rocking-chairs had been brought in. Day after day the sisters took their seats and listened while it was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the knife was Crystel’s very own; it was shown how she had visited New Yorkon the fatal day; how she had seemed — agitated and nervous both going and coming on the trains. Lawyer Allan, in all the glee of his devilish triumph, said he was prepared to prove, as a final evidence, that the prisoner had been heard to declare, in the presence of important wit- nesses, that she would find a way of removing deceased from her path, or Mr. Haighte’s, which __ was pretty much the same. Murmursof horror and indignation arose from various parts of the _ room, and Bertrand sprung to bis feet in insult- ed wrath. . is. “How dare—” Then remembering himself, he sunk down in his chair again. , ys “ Annette Willoughby, you will now state, — on your oath, what you heard the prisoner. re— pa to Mr. Bertrand Haighte and Mr. Clifford. emple, in the presence of her sister, Miss Hel- lice coe.” ; ' Every ear was strained, and a silence like death reigned. The persons mentioned were as- | * tonished at the lawyer’s words, and awaited with ready, indignant denials, knowing full well that Cryste never used such manner of language. A low cry of wounded pride came from the lips of the family when they saw this woman, one who had slept under their roof and eaten at their table, ascend to the witness» st ‘ s and. : Ina cold, heartless voice the woman told her She had been coming to the drawing-room — with a shawl for Miss Crystel. The doors were — all open, and she had heard a great deal about _ the romantic affair that occurred the night be- fore she came, and when the voice of the bride- elect fell on her ears, she instinctively listened, with a sort of curious awe, and she heard the risoner say: ‘‘Undine Del Rose dare not cross is path again! Let her but attempt it, and I will find a way to remove her!” Then they laughed, and she went on; she’d never ’a’ — thought of it again, if it hadn’t struck her all. of a sudden that it was her duty. The lawyer glanced triumphantly at Bertrand... Pale as ashes, his eyes glittering, he was star-. — ing at Crystel; Hellice’s face was buried in her hands, and Mr. Temple was biting his lips and looking bitterly at the woman. : 4 Th Crystel’s tears burst forth, for the first time _ during that long, long time of excitement. — “T char; ou, on the Holy Evangel of God, _ to say if this be true, Bertrand Haighte.” vo ae He arose, with his anguish in his face. ; “May God in heaven succor her, and forgive these lips that criminate her; it is true” ‘¢ And your oath, sir?’ Mi He turned to Clifford. ae “Tt is true,” he replied. ere. # “Miss Hellice!” iY “She never meant it when she said it— _ never!” ae Then Crystel stood up, pale and calm. -¢ “T know I said it; but why those innocent, loving words should condemn me, God only knows. Ido not.” Bs Then she resumed her seat. e jury went out; they came in; and—we — spare the sickening details—Crystel Roscoe was: found guilty, and remanded to her cell! And — ea Willoughby ee eo Sige pag ee t smile on her pale lips a li in her eyes — some shee tiens brilliancel
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ene fe Bea *, CHAPTER XIX. i%, IN HER CELL. ; Ir seemed as though the blackness of darkne had forever closed over the households at Edenwilde and The Towers. Every thing had happened so suddenly; event fol- lowed event in, such pee succession, that it seemed impossible to believe they had actually transpired. / A few weeks ago dressing for her bridal; and now a sentenced prisoner; with the scaffold instead of her wedding couch, the halter in place of the or- ange-bloom wreath! i hardly know how to describe the life of Crystel Roscoe after she knew she wasdoomed. | : At first she had lain in fearful convulsions, while _. friends, lover and relatives stood by, praying that her life would go out with every passing preath; but _an inscrutable Providence disregarded their pas- ‘ , finrit weo ag and Crystel grew well and strong _—for what: ; _ After her consciousness returned fully, it seemed as though her reason could not stand the awful _ pressure; she would scream in her anguish, and be; _. and pray them to Ng her—her, who never harme 7k fily—till the stern old man on guard at the door would weep like a child. -.. At times she would clasp her hands around her beautiful white throat until the pain made her de- ; ane and Bien she would moan and sob till it seemed her soul would sob itself weay. ; : _Every effort was being made to procure a respite; hundreds of thousands of dollars were offered by _ the Roscoes, the Haightes, and the Temples for the _ Yeal murderer to come forth; he was promised his e by the State authorities to turn himself over; and all the while, though the popular feeling was for _ Orystel, and men staked their all on her innocence, the hours went on and on, fraught with their burden -of unutterable woe to many a heart that beat so proudly so shortly before. The day psa en for the termination of the peel — was still several weeks off; and lawyers and rel- .atives were striving for a pardon, Thousands of _ dollars had been expended; friends, by hundreds, had signed the touc petition to the Governor, vand it had been forwarded. -_Crystel and Hellice were not told of it, for the fear | that it might fail. . _ Day after day had cragerd along, while hopes ran high as to the result; the while Bertrand, full of surety that it could not end unfavorably, in that _ General Roscoe was a power in the State, as well as _ @ warm personal friend of the authority who held so nany lives in his hand; so Bertrand, who had never +) lost sight of it, but which had sunk to mere triviality _ com ared to the solemn doings of late, had instruct- ‘Del I lawyer to apply for a divorce from Undine - Del Rose. _ There was not the slightest difficulty in procuring ‘it; the only question being a matter of time. ag so oe waited, with sick hearts, for the issue. _A ortnight, a month rolled on, and then one day ‘there came a woman who had gained permission to _ see the prisoner. _ Hellice was with her, as she had been for a long . time, almost as pale as the doomed girl herself. i ‘he stranger was Annette he! ates by; and the sis- _ ters shrunk from her as from a snake. _ Acertain grim smile parted her pale lips as she noted it. 4 i “You naturally hate me; nor do I wonder at it; Fad i - yet, for all that, [have come to see if I can not be o service to yon; you, Miss Crystel,” Hellice who made answer. ut it was He : ‘You can do nothing more acceptable than to ey eave us.’’ She scarcely deigned a glance toward her, and her _ stones were chillingly distant. Miss Crystel, may I beg a private interview of a F ‘ae minutes?” it ‘ (es Be tel opened her eyes languidly. yf eke’ oon say. You can harm me no further.” She was lying, as she had for several days, with _ ‘her hands clasped around her neck. re ~ “TF my _ sist i, desires it, she shall have her will eyed. Crystel, dearest, I will remain within call.” is She walked across the cell as thou h she were an empress in her grand saloon, and out into the c70) 5 3) (0 (2) a Then Annette Willoughby drew her vacant chair ) Crystel’s cot, and fixed her dull, dead eyes on ’s bloodless face. ¢ _Iknew you hated me; but not so badly .as you.” | CY stagular words roused Crystel; in her drift- away. from all earthl: bony mpeee it seemed so to wound her thus. Her lips quivered. ig Iknow not why you should, Annette. I never have wronged you.” “Butyou have, you have!” . ys) words came in a passionately-quick utterance, and Crystel wondered, in her vague way, if the wo- man were crazy. _ You thwarted my best friend; you took the man my best friend had almost won; you broke her ‘S * % _ heart, and then you murdered her—murdered her, : wig ip wae ft ', , She whispered the last words in a horrible, low 72 <pOn08, / i - “ Yes, ‘they say,’ but you don’t believe it, do you? ‘How can they think I did it?” - The dead, dull eyes grew momentarily bright, as he woman replied: 4 : “That is what I came for. I not only believe you be innocent, but I know it! I can prove it!” Then Crystel sprung from her co , her blood dash- jing madly through her veins; her eyes springing if - her cold hend again and again. ieee ra deo t S . ¢ Bad THE MASKED BRIDE. ines “God bless you, my angel.of deliverance! Oh, | what can I say, what canI do to thank you? Take all my jewels, all my property, Edenwilde—every thing—and then I will be in your debt forever!” Annette flung her pleading, twining hands away, a bitter sneer on her lips. “Yes, can proveit. I knowevery thing about it; I saw the blow struck, and can lay my hands on the person at any time. o you hear that, Crystel Ros- coe? I can lead you forth as free as the breeze that is lifting your curls! Would you go?” ‘*Would Igo! what mockery! Take me, Annette, whithersoever you will—only take me away from here. You shall be rich, and wear diamonds, and drive in your carriage, only for God’s sake free me!”’ She wound her arms around Annette’s knees in beseeching agony. Annette laughed outright. “I say I can do it; but, Crystel Roscoe, unless you give your lover up, Ill not doit!” A scream, loud, piercing, fell from the girl’s lips as she reeled a moment, then fainted just as Hellice rushed in to her aid. “You have done this?’ She pointed sternly to Annette, who was going away; she stopped a moment, as she answered: “T think not. She is nervous and weak.” Then she went out, toencounter Bertrand Haighte in the hall. Helifted his head absently as he jostled against her. ““T beg your pardon, madam.’ She murmured an unintelligible reply, gazing after him, her foot tapping, tapping on the floor, as if some great inward passion thus found partial vent. “Go on your way, Bertrand Haighte! but we will see if Undine Del Rose shall not be avenged!” CHAPTER XX. ; A NEW SURPRISE. BeErtTRAND found Hellice tenderly chafing Crystel’s cold hands and striving to check the heartrending moans that were breaking from her lips. “What is it, my darling? tell me, and I will strive to comfort you, though God knows I shall never know myself what that word means.” She smoothed his face with her little wan hand. “Tt was hard before—but it's worse now; oh, Ber- trand, it maddens me to know she can prove my in- nocence, and she won’t because she hates me—me so!” Bertrand and Hellice started at her words. “ What? who can prove it?” ** Annette—but she won't; I begged and prayed; I offered her all, everything, but she laughe and said not unless I gave you up, my Bertrand.” He sprung from his chair, heedless of her loving caress. “A sudden light has flashed over me—oh, Crystel, Hellice, go down on your knees and pray as you enh oe before, that at the last He will grant ustice!” : He snatched a kiss from Crystel’s lips, wrung Hel- lice’s hands, and started on a tearing run after An- nette Willoughby. She had only reached the nearest corner, when she heard his flying footsteps; and the strange smile, it so illy befitted her pale, faded lips, flitted over em. ‘*Let him come—to his own destruction! It can make but little difference whether it is to night or a year hence.” Be He strove to calm himself as he laid his hand lightly on her shoulder. ? ‘* Annette—this is you? You have just left Miss Crystel, and I must see you at once!” bh fi hog wish it, my rooms are near at hand. I am going to them now.” They walked on one or two blocks, and then An- nette preceded him up the stairs of a Poe decent house, to afront room, scantily furnished. ger glanced inquiringly around; she followed his ance, ‘Now, Mr. Haighte, I am at your service.” She removed her shawl and bonnet, revealing her short, gray hair and sallow neck. “T need waste no words on preliminary courtesy. I want to know what your authority is in telling Miss Crystel Roscoe that you can prove her inno- cence, and another one’s guilt?” He spoke sternly and rapidly. “And if I decline to answer you?” “ We will not discuss so uvreasonable a supposi- tion; suffice it that I bave my suspicions’ as to who and what youare. Again, why is the price demand- ed, my unworthy self?” A dull red flush suffused her cheeks. “Who think you I am?” ‘* A bribed messenger, whose business it has been, since Undine Del Rose took her own life, to use every means in your power to criminate an innocent woman. I believe you received your instructions prior to the girl’s death; who, alive, bade you what to do in case of this emergency which she foresaw.” A sareastic smile played over Annette's face. “Very likely you are right; and when I tell you that Iam bound to avenge your wife, you will, with your delightful sense of honor and chivalry, at once perceive the importance of performing my mission.”’ af dashed his hand impatiently across his fore- ead. ‘The hours that number my betrothed bride’s life are too precious to be wasted thus. I demand your authority on your oath; otherwise I shall summon the police and arrest you. On the whole, I prefer that plan, anyhow.” ' He stepped to raise the window, when the cold muzzle of a pistol touched his temple. He glanced ide it her head in the rapturous joy of the moment. | around, and meta pair of demoniac black eyes danc- ‘She fell on her knees before Annette, and kissed | ing before his; a mouth wreathed in bitterest scorn | and wildest triumph. For a moment he stood horrified at the sight; then her cocl, clear tones fell on his exrs. “If you think to thwart me after all this time, you are mistaken, Bertrand Haighte! Do you know now why I can prove your ‘betrothed bride’s’ inno- cence? Do you comprehend that for hate and re- venge I will not?) No! With this revolver on your temple, and my finger on the trigger, I defy you! I laugh you to scorn, and bid you go on to the execu- tion day, and see her hung—HUNG BY THE NECK, and then remember that 7 helped to doit! 7, your law- ful wife! I, your discarded wife! I, whom people think lies dead and buried! I, a living woman,whom Crystel Roscoe shall be hung for! I, Undine Del Rose Huighte !” ; The sharp crack of a pistol foJowed her shrill words, and Bertrand Haighte fell to the floor, his life- blood streaming over his beautiful hair, and down his still, white face. CHAPTER XXII. A LAST ATTEMPT. For a second, Undine—we may as well call her so —stood looking at what she had done; then laying the revolver on the carpet, near where Bertrand lay, she — down the rear staircase, through the yard, climbed over a pile of lumber, and from thence into a back street. Here she paused for a moment's breathing rest, then walked leisurely on toward the river. ae “*T will take this route to the de ot; sued, I willdrown myself, as she did.’ It seemed as thongs her evil genius was protecting her,for she reached the Thirty-first station safely, pur- chased a ticket, not for Edenwilde station, where she eventually intended going, but one several miles be- yond. From this station she walked back, rem the Riverside Lodge just in the dense darkness tha precedes day-dawn. Mrs. Hall came down to let her in. “Since Lida’s gone off on her goose-chase all the work falls onto me.” “Why, has Lida gone away?” Undine’s tones were expressive of surprise. “Gone away? I shouldthink so. More fool she. She j’ined that ’ere brother o’ yourn somewhere in New York—and you needn’t tell me she went off to the city on her own accord; she’s got a secret letter from him, I’ll bet—and off they’ve went, the land knows where.”’ Undine was perfectly indifferent under all. * Joe’s a good fellow enough, “urs. Hall, I’m sure.” “Good or not, I take it he can’t be great shakes enticin’ her off so. She was sick when she went, and I shouldn’t wonder if I heard of her death next.” Her words suggested a delightful idea to Undine. Hear of her death? indeed, Mrs. Hald should hear of Lida’s death, and thus her tracks would again be covered, bd Es her silent bedroom, Undine lay thinking, thinking, till it seemed her very brain was reeling with the weight of her load. if I am pur- She was angry that she had discovered herself to — Bertrand Haighte. Why had she suffered herself to undo the very Shing she had been so long doing? only half acknowledging to herself that the same fiery passions that had led her along, were still so ungovernable that they had thwarted her in a measure “But he shall not find me! not if I have to take my own lifein the presence of the officers whom he may send to arrest me. What shall I do?” ntil the sun was house high she lay thus, plan- ning how to éscape the snare she had laid for her own feet. Then, when she went down to her break- fast, she was ready for action. “Mrs, Hall, you are going out to-day?” “To The Towers, to help Mrs. Bowen bleach that new piece of linen; and a mean job itis, too. Old Black Moll promised to come and help us hang it up. There ain’t a blessed soul at The Towers but Mrs. Bowen and Rachel now; all the maids is down to the trial with the ladies. Poor, dear Miss Crystel!” ' ge ceed Irun down and see where Moll is, as I go to the depot? I only came up in a hurry to get a change of underclothes. Miss Hellice’ll expect me back ight away. If Moll is sick or anything, she can send somebody else, I suppose?” “T don’t care who, ’s long as they can work.” So, bidding Mrs. Hall and her husband good-by, Undine hurried down the shady garden-walk to a side road that led to a cabin on the edge of the es- tate, where Black Moll and one or two sisters lived, There had been strange talk about this old wo man, and people said she was a witch; others, bet ter informed, knew she pretended to tell fortunes, while a very few,and Undine among them, knew that for money she would do any thing; hang up a web of linen, or waylay a child that passed her coo? and rob it of its amulets, perhaps its life. But there were no proofs, and the hag was suffer: ed to live along. ' To this woman therefore, Undine went, in her: extremity, for she fully realized how she was situated herself. She entered tie miserable cabin, and after an hour’s interview, there came out a smart young negress, who walked up to The Towers to help Mrs. » Bowen hang a the linen. Of all her disguises, this was the most perfect. She fairly shrunk from her own self when she saw her reflection in the little cracked glass over Black Moll’s table. But it was a fearful game she was playing now. She had, perhaps, murdered a hu- man being, and her own life depended on her acute- ness. ‘ é “Remember the terms, I will come here again in a fortnight.” * And don’t forgit you leab youah ’fectiatious a’nt Moll in de ole cab’n, a ee \ The old woman roared out her parting injunction, - pet Ny a ¥ y 4 : ¥
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and the brave girl—for she was courageous—set out .to defy the justice she knew was on her track. “They’ll never think of looking for me here. If Bertrand recovers, and can tell the story, I wonder which would be the sweetest revenge: to have him llie with the secret locked between his lips and her to be hung for my murder, or have him blazon the truth, and then with no proof to substantiate it, see her choked to death before his eyes, when he knows } Iam living. On the whole, venturesome as it is, I prefer the latter. One thing is sure as fate: I never will be taken alive, if worst comes to, worst! I’ve a trusty agent here that will relieve me of life in a second.’ : : She touched a small, white glass bead that hung under her dress, tied around her neck. , “TI have but to crush the glassin my hand, and the contact of the poison on the spot where the glass cuts the skin is certain death.” A gleam of defiance shone in her eyes a moment; then, as the gray hights of The Towers loomed up closely before her, a bitter sneer curled her lips. “How I hate this place, that has taken all I ever eared forfromme! First he was won by this Lur- line, they called her—ah! but it would be a sweet drop of revenge to see Clifford Temple mourning for his sweetheart, as I have mourned for Ber— the name shall not cross my ips.” Then she walked up into the laundry,and told Mrs. tsps she came in place of Black Moll, who was sick. ; “Tt makes no difference to me, so you can help. mas at the end—there.” . en‘the work was done that night, she asked if Mrs. Bowen wanted anything else done to-morrow. ““There’s enough to do, dear knows. Can you polish silver, and shine glass? If you can, and can wash and iron,I'll keep you till the other girls come.” ‘*T can’t wash or iron, but I can do the rest. Aunt Moll will do that for you.” “You may’s well stay then. sort of a nigger.” And so a fate that was closing hopelessly over her though she was all unconscious of it, settled ‘‘ July,’ the colored servant, at The Towers. You seem a smart 3 — / CHAPTER XXII. LIGHT IN DARKNESS. Ir was high noon of the next day when Bertrand Haighte awoke from the long, dreamless sleep that ne so near bearing him into the great sea of Eter- ality. He had been seriously shot, and lay in prone un- consciousness all those long hours; alike unaware as _ to how the discharge of the pistol had attracted a chance pay, who had given the alarm; how Clifford Temple and Crystel’s father had been sent for by the officer, who recognized him; how they had tenderly carried him to his hotel, with terrified _ awe that any one had dare:l attempt to take his life. They could do almost nothing; true, detectives were scouring the vicinity, but there was not a trace left of the assassin’s tracks; the woman next door, - who let the lodgings, ‘did not even know her tenant’s name; the money had been advanced for the whole floor, and she didn’t care for any thing else. With sad, almost oreo ing faces, the family gathered at hisbed side, while his mother held his hands in unutterable tenderness; his sisters weeping over him in his unconsciousness. ; Little by little, life came flowing back through his veins; then, when every one save his mother had _ been kindly banished from the room, he slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. At first he smiled in Mrs. Haighte’s face; then, like @lightning-flash, his memory awoke to a full sense of what had transpired. ““Qnick—the police! Mother, Undine is alive— alive, and she tried to kill me!”’ . Then, when the secret had fied from his lips, he fainted again. ment reigned among the few who heard the news. General Roscoe himself flew back to the jail, where the night had passed in such strangely tor- turous emotion to the sisters, to tell the wondrous news. Hellice clasped her sister in her arms. ‘My darling, let us thank God for this one ray of hope; it may be only a chimera that dear Bertrand has imaginéd in the midst of his excitement; yet I think he is correct. You say he will recover, father?” _ * We have every reason to believe so. J firmly be- / lieve God will raise him up to bring Fre to light. Crystel, my angel child, I am glad to see you ery once more,” The storm of tears that nothing could bring had flowed when she heard of Bertrand’s danger; and she knelt, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, beside the little cot, in silent, agonizing prayer. __“ Father, can you explain this awful mystery? If ; Undine Del Co eS fhis moment? If Undine was not murdered, who © eaves? *) "That I can not say, my child. The proof of Ber- ¥ 4 \ | trand’s affidavit will soon be forthcoming if he was tight. We have started a dozen detectives on her : track—the smartest men in the profession. God send Speedy success!”’ f Then in his agitation to learn more of this strange news, he hastened hack to Bertrand’s bedside. He had recovered again, and was doing well; and as it was simply impossible to keep him quiet when _ so much was at stake, the attending physicians de- ____ ¢lared that, as no unfavorable symptoms had mani- ae fested themselves, perhaps it would be a help, in- i _ stead of a hindrance, to relieve his mind by discuss- ___, ing the affair with his friends. : os Se th r, > . Rose is alive, why should not Crystel go | But, it was enough; intelligence was instantly dis- | patched to the authorities, and the wildest excite- | | glasses, | with you!” THE MASKED BRIDE.’ P. > ». eC ed ' 15 “Tt is just six weeks ago t0-day, Bertrand, that | people, who followed the party _ the Tombs, you applied for this; see?”’ It was a large, business-like Hy and it needed but a glance to see it was a bill of divorce between Bertrand and Undine. “T only wanted it for Crystel’s sake; after we thought she was dead it was too.late to stop pro- ceedings. Asit is, it is a good thing.” The second week of Bertrand’s convalescence brought the answer to the petition; his excellency had granted & respite of a month; a pardon was deemed inadvisable, in the existing state of affairs. The respite was very acceptable; it gave still six thee to decide the question of Undine’s life or eath, > And so the days in the prison cell wore on to Crys- tel, to whom the feverish suspense and constant ex- citement was bringing languor and illness; she faded slowly, surely, in the close confinement, and Hellice used to wonder why God permitted it; then strove to reconcile herself to her inevitable destiny. Day by day Bertrand lay on his bed, or sat in his chair, reading letters from the various agents em- ployed, and receiving almost hourly telegraphic communications. And then, one day—the day on which Crystel was to have been hung had it not been for the merciful respite—there came a telegram of one word; only five letters, but a word that at once and forever dissipated the long, long night of an- torture and doubt. The word was ‘‘FOUND”’; and it was gre. pe) from Edenwilde station an hour before, and signed by the detective. Bertrand sprung to his feet in wild enthusiasm; then trembling and swaying in his weakness like a reed in®a tempest of wind, he tottered across the floor and laid his head on his mother’s shoulder; while together their tears flowed, and their silent re- joicing went up to Heaven as a thank-offering. Like wildfire the news flew from mouth to mouth; the very bootblacks on the corners spoke of it in 2 chivalrous sort of way; and Clifford Temple and General Roscoe dashed off to the jail to bear the glad tidings. “ “Darling! darling! you are free—free forever! The detectives have found her, my children, and her very existence leaves you spotless before the world! Hellice! Crystel! can we ever repay our Maker for His boundless mercy?” And the stern old man, with his arm? around his children’s necks, wept like a woman. The sisters—can we porten their emotions? the blinding, heaven-born light that bei hey their very souls? the bitter cup that was suddenly snatched as they were about drinking the very dregs? CHAPTER XXIII. REUNITED. THE same afternoon that Bertrand had received the telegram, and had almost been crazed by the sudden joy, witnessed the cause of that joy, a far different scene from the effect. Undine, in all the quiet stupidity that became her to play, as ‘‘ July,”’ the negress, was sitting in the little pohet eee absently out the little window on the sere, soniber winter robes of the Highlands, when aknock on the door, close beside her, aroused her with a start, as every noise did now. She started:to open it, just as Mrs. Bowen came rushing into the room, her cap-strings flying, her face all full of terror. “ Bless me, whatever can them perlice—”’ Then the outer door opened, and two detectives sprung in, each seizing a wrist, while Undine, with a moan of terror, sunk powerless at their feet. “We beg pardon, ma’am, but we had to_intrude. This young woman here is Miss Undine De! Rose, ar- rested for an attempt on the life of your master, young Mr. Haighte!’’ Mrs., Bowen gazed in stupid awe at the speaker. “You don’t mean to say this nigger, July, is a lady—why, bless my soul, I thought poor, dear Miss Crystel was in jail for kiling that Un—something. This can't be her!” . A puzzled frown was contracting the old lady’s ace. “This is she, and Miss Roscoe will be free by to- morrow this time. Come, Miss Del Rose, time’s precious.” “The saints be praised!’ ejaculated the old house- keeper, raising her apron to wipe the tears under the ‘“Now, you black—you white baggage, up But, after all the load she had borne so long, alone, | the last feather had broken her courageous spirit: she had sunk into a deep faint, and lay motionless on the floor. “This disguise may as well be removed. Could you assist us, madam ?”’ “Could I? indeed I believe I’m none too good to choke her to death! Poor Master Bertrand—he’s getting better, they write, while ’'ve been harborin’ this rascal.” , And so, between the three, Undine was restored to her natural agree ee while Mrs. Bowen, all un- conscious of the dreadful agent it contained, threw the fatal giass bead far out the window, It was not until an hour after that Undine recov- | ered; and then, with her first moment’s strength With a scream of thrust her hand in her bosom, bafiled rage she drew it forth, ““Who has dared meddle with me! Woman, it was ou!” “ Of course it was; there now!” / Undine’s lips moved, but no words intelligible came from them; then the men conducted her forth, and ap her into the carriage, in which they drove to the city. " 4! At the station they were met by crowds of curious % y= fa ta 4 ids ae ay & ~ 6.244 | | J oe Tee er a | a ae eM Ne | in down inher pure, sad eyes, that wear a shadow whither Undine Del Rose was carried. ¥ Retributive justice had brought her under the — same roof, a prisoner with Crystel Roscoe, who was ony waiting a form of law to set her bodily free. arly the next day the sheriff read her honorable discharge; and amid a throng of men, who with bare heads and moist eyes lined the street, Crystel drove to the hotel. A meeting it was between the friends that is too sacred to reveal; there were silent, solemn grasps of the hand, and inaudible praises for God’s great mercy; while Crystel, so pale, so passing fair, knelt at Bertrand’s side, her own sweet smile shining through her tears, and his strong hands trembling like a child’s as they lay on her sunny bright hair. And then, the dear old rector of Edenwilde, who had come to rejoice with them,prayed; and when he had arisen from his knees, they all felt that the cloud had dispersed, and the silver lining would shine for them forever. CHAPTER XXIV. THE LAST OF THE PLAY. By some strange coincidence, Undine Del Rose —s_—> was consigned to the same cell that Crystel Roscoe had left; but it was not for long, for a fearful brain fever followed the reaction of all those months of misery. When she recovered her strength and health, the light of her on had gone out, and she was an idiot; a silent, harmless, pitiful woman, who would sit all the day long holding her hands, } never moving or s) cing. . With all the agony of a_ strong love, Mrs. St. Ha- vens had nursed her, and tended her through her long, tedious illness, during the delirium of which she had told over and over again her plans, her suc- cesses, until a complete confession was obtained that declared its own truthfulness, vi After her recovery, Undine was carried to her old home, where, in the depths of her grief, Mrs. St. Havens cared for her as a mother should. *) For Undine was her own child; the daughter of’ ; Bertrand Haighte’s father, and Bertrand’s half-sis- ter! That was the cause of her impassioned warn- _ ing to the wayward girl when she had declared she vod would mar ertrand Haighte, and that the reason. of Clifford Temple’s solemn caution; Temple knew the secret that the Haightes never had learned, and __ had loved the girl despite her iHegitimate birth, which Mrs, St. Havens had sworn never to ac- | knowledge. y Little had Bertrand dreamed that by the threat i that ‘* Florian still lives,” was meant Undine, whose : name had been changed by her fearful mother: and \ of whom Mr. Haighte had recorded the warning to his son, i pee. n his moments of lucidness, thet ae there was a chance that his two children might _ meet and ignorantly love. » Hence, were his : on and heir warned by the letter, — 4 he could escape the doom of possibly marrying his — own sister 4 me noone. But an over; iding tea. | hand ruled it aright at last, and the remedy, thou | ae abe: had been but very little better than the isease, It seems hardly necessary that we should go back over the story and gather up the threads by means — of which the fated on accomplished her ends; it is enouzh that, though successful, she was unsuccess- ful; and that at the last, with her reason gone, and not one of all her friends left—not even lawyer Al- lan, who had learned the use she made of him to procure his assistance, and whose treachery brought its own reward—she was doomed to drag a horrible life through to the grave. A { We willingly leave her, in a broken-hearted moth- er’s hands, and bid her an eternal adieu. Of Lida Hall's suicidal death her aunt never knew, or her uncle; they never heard from her, and be- lieved her to be somewhere in the West. t Poor Lida! How the body drawn from the river was supposed / to be Undine’s was never explaiued; it is a mystery a to-day—save to our readers. @ Lee And now to drop the curtain on these dark scenes __ forever! - Two years have passed on fleet wings,and now we invite our readers to the double wedding in the little Edenwilde chapel. y It is not as_ grand as you think becoming to the Roscoes, the Haightes and Temples; but when you © remember the darkness that brooded so long, you ~ will agree it is best. ‘ The ceremonies have been pronounced, and the — few guests have congratulated the brides; Clifford —. Temple and Lurline, his wife, have driven to Eden- wilde, whither the wedding breakfast is to be cele- brated; and Bertrand and Crystel linger a moment — es their carriage drives up. ; His arm is around her waist, and he is look- bappimess can never drive away. * My own wife at last!’? “Yes, dearest Bertrand, and is not our happiness the sweeter that it has been co dearly earned!” ‘““We can never forget the dark days, darling; but we will look forward to the beautiful, bright ones that we shall enjoy forever together!’ e hrs Thus they started their lifejourney: both not un- — Se he by the fiery trial, yet purified and strength- - ed, Meanwhile Hellice Roscoe and Gussie Haighte are contentedly intrenched behind the earthworks they call ‘single blessedness; the General and Mrs. Haighte happy in their children’s happiness. And what more can be said? : e THE END. , ; : \ yf : Mave ? , Pi 4 ree = ip eaas Ts f 4 4 7 ca
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